Redgranite, Wisconsin

Redgranite, Wisconsin, August 19th, 2006

In the heyday of granite that was used in construction to rebuild Chicago after the Chicago fire and in Milwaukee to construct most of the downtown, Redgranite, Wisconsin was renamed, having formerly been Sandy Prairie, and swelled to a population of 2000 as stonecutters converged for work in the quarry.

The Redgranite pictorial history, at my cousins’ cabin, establishes the origin of many of these stonecutters. Among the Pedersons and Sjostroms and Kiekendahls who settled in the area are Italian stonecutters: Angelo’s, Pirellis, and others, from Sicily and Florence. Most family narratives in the book begin with an immigration story. There’s still a substantial Catholic cemetery and a huge Catholic church, surprising to me in this bastion of Scandinavian customs and names.

The original owners of the Stang Cabin, Teddy and Kirsten Stang, came from Norway. My cousins, with whom we are staying at the cabin, tell me that their trip to Norway helped them understand why their Norwegian immigrant grandparents loved Pearl Lake, where the cabin sits, so very much: It reminds them, they say, of the rural areas outside Oslo where their grandparents were born and spent their childhoods.

The quarry still exists, right behind the tiny stone post office, but now it is willed with water and local teens and twenty-somethings swim in it at their own risk. There is, indeed, a risk: Just ten short days ago a young man drowned in the quarry, and a makeshift memorial consists of stuffed animals and handwritten poster boards propped against a nearby tree.

The boom of Redgranite was short-lived. Cement was mass-produced and hauled and used in construction. The quarry was dug out. Workers moved to Milwaukee and Chicago to fine new work, and Redgranite shrunk to its current resort-town has-been. The replacement industry was the Chicago Pickle Company, which grew fields and fields of cucumbers successfully in the sandy soil. My aunt, who spentevery summer of her childhood at the cabin and is now in her seventies, said the smell of vinegar permeated. It also counts for the Polish names in the Redgranite picture book: Zielenske, Maurawski, and others.

Today, it’s a quiet town. The best shopping in town is at Mosiers’ Sporting Goods, a tumbledown operation with narrow aisles displaying socks, rope, fishing gear, reading glasses, and out-of-season Christmas tchotkes. It is a tradition that Stang cabin guests shop there, and so we do. Back at the cabin, as dusk approaches, we burn the original pier, which has rotted and has been piled up for years. It’s a grand fire to cook s’mores over.

The next day, we head west for a cross-country trip, waved off my cousins, aunt and uncle, and my 82-year-old mother, all waving furiously as we drive away, honking.