In an earlier post, “Intensely Cold Weather,” we examined the negative effects of several episodes of bitterly cold winter weather during the Clark family’s era and shortly afterwards. Today we look at some of the positive aspects of frigid winters in our part of the Old Northwest.
It’s no secret. Wisconsinites like to do stuff outdoors in the winter cold. Ice fishing. Skating. Cheering for the Packers.
But the Green Bay Packers professional football team wasn’t organized until 1919, a full eighty years after Jonathan M. Clark bought his first parcel of Mequon land in 1839. So what did our intrepid Wisconsin pioneers do back in the mid-1800s when those deep snows fell and cold north winds began to blow? Well, if you believe the newspapers of the era, there was no finer way to occupy a clear, frosty day—or moonlit evening—than to bundle up, go outside, and enjoy a…
We’re having some very cold weather this weekend, not unusual for Wisconsin in mid-winter. But it got me thinking, wondering what sort of winter weather did the Clarks and Turcks and Bonniwells experience, and what effect the did the cold have on their daily lives?
To find out, I started by searching digitized old newspapers, looking for the phrase “below zero,” in Wisconsin, between the years 1833-1899. Oh boy, did I get results! After narrowing my search to more local sources, I found this news item on page 2 of the Wednesday, January 2, 1884 issue of the Cedarburg News:
This article suggests that the winter of 1883-1884 was expected to be somewhat mild; an “open” winter was one with little or no snow cover on the ground. All the signs and predictions thought this would be the case. Apparently, the local muskrats had built their houses differently in 1883, as muskrats do when they expect a milder winter. The “universal opinion” of the “local weather prophets”—including Milwaukee’s famed “Ice Bear,” Henry Kroeger—thought so, too. But on the night of December 28-29, 1883, the thermometers in Cedarburg—just a few miles from the old Jonathan Clark farm—dropped to 25 degrees below zero (Farenheit). It was the coldest morning in decades.
But by the 1880s many of the older members of the Clark, Turck, and Bonniwell families had died, and many of the younger generation had left Ozaukee county and relocated to Milwaukee, Chicago, Minnesota, and elsewhere. Some or most of them may have missed this late-1883 cold snap. But this short article also mentions another, similar record cold spell, one that Mary Turck Clark and her children actually lived through, in Milwaukee, around the New Year of 1864.
What’s the news? I’ve gathered the expert—and stylish—editorial staff of Clark House Historian (see above) and together we proudly present the latest installment of our more-or-less annual Blog Year in Review!
Let’s begin with some blog statistics for 2025:
In some ways, 2025 was not a particularly productive year for CHH. I only managed to publish 35 posts, averaging less than one per week. Most posts were new material, but some were revised repeats of favorite seasonal and holiday topics, such as Christmas, Memorial Day, Veterans Day and such.
Meanwhile, “behind the scenes,” I was busy with some non-blog research projects, one focused on the post-Fred Beckmann history of the Wisconsin House building in Cedarburg, and another centered on the history and construction of the Jonathan Clark House.
Not surprisingly, with the number of CHH posts down, reader engagement dropped also, to a low of only 3 “likes” and 34 comments for the year. Just to be clear, I really do like to hear from y’all, so let me encourage you “like,” comment, and ask questions more often in 2026. Even if I’m working on a larger, longer, research project—which tends to slow my online blog production—I really enjoy reading and replying to your queries.
On the other hand, the number of blog subscribers increased in the past year. Clark House Historian currently has 86 subscribers. If you’d like to comment or subscribe, but don’t know how, click this link for all the “how to” details.
Monthly readership
As you can see (below), even though the number of new posts in 2025 was lower than in previous years, total blog readership was up substantially over 2024:
“The Christmas Tree,” after Winslow Homer, Harper’s Weekly, 25 Dec. 1858. Metropolitan Museum of Art, public domain.
Christmas is almost upon us and, frankly, I’ve been too busy—and too tired—this month to write much for the blog. It’s certainly not for lack of topics or sources. I have the beginnings of over 60 [sic!] blog posts sketched out already, and a huge pile of fascinating documents and images set aside to illustrate those posts. The amount of interesting material is daunting, and organizing each topic into one or more coherent posts takes time and energy that have been hard to come by these past few months. Now it’s late December and I’m looking forward to visits from family that will keep me happily preoccupied until early January.
I’ll be back with new material after the New Year. In the meanwhile, below are links to a few holiday-themed favorites from past years for your (re-)reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy them. And in 2026, I look forward to an exciting (and more consistently productive!) year of discoveries here at Clark House Historian.
The American War of Independence began 250 years ago, more than half a century before the forced removal of Wisconsin’s original native peoples and the beginnings of large-scale, government-sponsored, white settlement in the Wisconsin Territory of the 1830s.
Verger, Jean Baptiste Antoine De, artist, [Soldiers in Uniform], 1781 (detail). The soldier on the right was a New England militiaman, one of many New Englanders (including, we believe, Jonathan Clark’s kin) that fought for the Patriot cause. More on this image, below.
PBS is commemorating the big anniversary by sponsoring and broadcasting “The American Revolution,” a six-part, 12-hour documentary film by Ken Burns and company, exploring the roots of the conflict, the military and diplomatic progress of the war, and the contributions to, and effects of, the war on its many military and civilian participants, including white, Black, and Native American men and women, both Loyalists & Patriots.
I’ve seen the first four episodes and found them lively, interesting, informative, and sometimes deeply moving. I’m no expert on the Revolutionary era, but I know quite a bit, and I find the series includes all the “important” events and persons that one would expect, along with all kinds of nuance and detail which are new to me.
It’s an excellent documentary, well worth your time, and is currently streaming—for free—on PBS.org. And in case you are wondering: yes, there are many topics in this Revolutionary War documentary that connect to, and later influence, the lives many of the early Mequon settler families, including the Clark and Turck families. In particular, be sure to watch the whole first episode, a clear and detailed explanation of the complex background and causes of the fight for American independence.
Veterans Day is today. For a perspective on the day—and our early Mequon veterans—here’s a post originally published at Clark House Historian on November 11, 2016, and revised, expanded and republished several times since.
Armistice Day — Veterans Day
One hundred and seven years ago today, at the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month—Paris time—the Armistice of Compiègne took effect, officially ending the fighting on the Western Front and marking the end of World War I, the optimistically named “War to End All Wars.”
In the United States, the commemoration of the war dead and the Allied victory began in 1919 as Armistice Day, by proclamation of President Woodrow Wilson. Congress created Armistice Day as a legal holiday in 1938. Starting in 1945, a World War II veteran named Raymond Weeks proposed that the commemorations of November 11 be expanded to celebrate all veterans, living and dead. In 1954 Congress and President Eisenhower made that idea official, and this is what we commemorate today. There are many veterans with a connection to the Jonathan Clark house. We honor a few of them in this post.
114th Regimental Reunion, May 30, 1897, Norwich, N. Y., Library of Congress [cropped and adjusted]. Many Clark neighbors served during the Civil War, and many remained active in the Grand Army of the Republic, the national organization for Union Army veterans, including these men from rural New York, gathered together in 1897.
I am saddened to report that my dear friend and fellow Clark & Turck family researcher and descendant Elizabeth “Liz” Alice (Wenger) Hickman has died, at home with her family, at the age of 81.
A life well lived.
Her family has posted a lovely obituary online and it’s worth reading. It not only reviews Liz’s personal and professional achievements—and they were many—it also manages to give the reader a good sense of her lively, intelligent, and fun personality. These two excerpts were particularly good at capturing Liz as I knew her:
Liz was a woman of determination and unmatched work ethic, whose approach to life was reflected in her annual back-to-school advice to her daughters to “sit in the front row and ask lots of questions.”
[…]With an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Liz read widely, was a passionate follower of current events, a collector of recipes, and a world traveler. She was keenly interested in technology, and often one of the earliest adopters in her family of any new technology or gadget.
Cousin Liz
Her obituary also recalls that “in retirement, Liz enjoyed genealogy, especially as it allowed her to find ‘new’ cousins and expand the family.” In 2012 it was my good fortune to become one of Liz’s newly-discovered cousins. Liz had noticed some of my early online corrections and additions to Turck and Clark documents and sources, and then contacted me through a genealogy message board. We exchanged emails and began to collaborate, and in no time we formed a happy and productive relationship as researchers and as kin.
Our annual Memorial Day post, first published in 2020, more relevant with each passing year.
Graves of Unknown Union Soldiers, Memphis National Cemetery, photo by Clayton B. Fraser, (Library of Congress), public domain. Memphis National Cemetery is the final resting place of Mequon’s Watson Peter Woodworth, and almost 14,000 of his Union Army comrades.
Today is the day our nation officially observes Memorial Day. For many Americans, Memorial Day represents “the first day of summer,” and is traditionally celebrated with trips to the lake, picnics, parades, and sales on cars, appliances, and other consumer goods.
But for many of us, Memorial Day remains rooted in its origins as Decoration Day. The first national observance was in 1868, when retired general John A. Logan, commander and chief of the Grand Army of the Republic—the Union veterans’ organization—issued his General Order Number 11, designating May 30 as a memorial day “for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land.”
On this Memorial Day, let’s take a moment to remember what this day truly represents.
Howdy! Sorry for the long blog silence. It’s not that I’m lacking for topics or material to share with you all, but I’ve been busy “behind the scenes” at the Clark House for the last month or so.
In particular, I’ve been working on two big projects. JCH executive director Nina Look and I have just published the Spring | May 2025 issue of the JCH Newsletter, and Nina and I have been collaborating with JCH intern Nicole Buerosse on a major, archival-quality upgrade for the preservation and display of the museum’s irreplaceable Bonniwell Family Bible.
Scaffolding at the Clark House? What’s up with that? Read on for more info…
We’ve had some snow in my corner of southeastern Wisconsin, several modest snowfalls over the past few days. I’ve had to shovel the walks and driveway at our house a few times this week, and there’s more snow—and shoveling—in the forecast. With that in mind, I thought you might enjoy the snow-related images and stories from a revised edition of this post, which originally appeared here in February, 2023.
Homer, Winslow, A Winter-Morning,—Shovelling Out, 1871. Wood engraving. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Harvey Isbitts.
Winter chores
I empathize with the lads in this 1871 engraving by Winslow Homer. Unlike these fellows, with their (homemade?) wooden shovels, I have a lightweight, sturdy, ergonomic, plastic and metal snow shovel to work with. And although we do get snow in 21st-century Wisconsin, I haven’t had to deal with shoulder-high accumulations like the ones in Homer’s picture since I lived in western Massachusetts in the early 2010s. It looks like our 1871 snow shovelers are dealing with the kind of snowfall that Clark family neighbor Rev. James W. Woodworth described in these January, 1871, diary entries: