“People of Harpers Slough” series continues: “Prohibition” and “Charlie Spiker”

by Joan Leschensky Grosshuesch

“In the 1930’s my parents bought a building lot from Happy Nipper, and my father, with the help of several friends and relatives, built a simple summer cottage on the banks of Harpers Slough. Our family spent a part of 10 or 12 summers there. Dad commuted to work in Waukon every day. There were some interesting people who made their homes in the area and lived there year-round. Some of them became good friends of our family. Their children were our playmates. These sketches are a compilation of memories of several of us who lived through those ten years together. It was during the Great Depression and times were hard.”

PROHIBITION

The making of whiskey was prohibited all right, but that didn’t stop the opportunistic river folk from seizing the chance to make more money than usual with much less work. Carloads of sugar were shunted onto the railroad siding in the Junction every year. It was ordered through the store and seemed innocent enough until one considered how much sugar could be consumed by the tiny population of the residents. The wooded bluffs, valleys and islands were full of illegal stills.

This was probably the worst kept secret in the county. Everyone knew about it, from the makers to the consumers to the broad array of helpers and middlemen. A virtual network of watchers conspired to warn the owners of the stills of the arrival of federal revenue agents in the area. The brotherhood of moonshiners decided in advance whose turn it was to get caught and the others hastily shut down their operations and laid low.

Anyone who got too nosy was warned off. If they persisted, retribution followed. A summer cottage mysteriously caught fire, a boat got holed. A burly resident of the Junction sported a 10-gauge, double-barreled shotgun and was reputed to be a guard-lookout for the many hidden stills. It was rumored that crime syndicates in Chicago had an interest in the operations, and truck loads of whiskey were leaving the area on a regular basis.

After the repeal of the Prohibition Act, it was back to grubbing out a living the hard way. An era had come to an end.

CHARLIE SPIKER

The link between the residents of the two summer cottages and Happy Nipper’s various businesses was Charlie Spiker. A bachelor with no family, he lived in a tar paper shack at the fish camp. As such he was, in a sense, the night watchman over the property. Prior to the intrusion of our cottages, he was a helper to Happy and earned some money by clamming and building row boats. In later years he had a small cabin and received general relief monies from the county. His fortunes improved during the years we were summer residents. My father and Len both commuted , on a daily basis, the 30 miles back and forth to their jobs in Waukon. This left their wives and children alone for the day on the banks of Harpers Slough. Much of the drudgery of our inconvenient lifestyle was taken over by Charlie.

Len and Florence’s cottage was like a year-round home. Nicely finished off and furnished, it lacked only electricity and plumbing to make it comparable to our homes in town. Food preparation seemed to be Florence’s only attempt at domesticity, with Charlie hired to do all the rest. He mowed the lawn, raised and lowered the floating pier, delivered ice, filled water tanks, fueled and cleaned the boats and did the house cleaning on a weekly basis. He also dug the garbage pits and carried out the kitchen and bathroom wastes.

When the river flooded the property, it was Charlie who helped move our furnishings out of reach of the murky water and scrubbed and cleaned the walls and surfaces after the floods receded. His help at our place was limited; my parents took on most of the chores, and we kids were expected to help as much as we were able to. However, he was the one who made things livable at Len and Florence’s cottage.

Charlie was a husky, well-built man. He was unfailingly cheerful and the love between him and any and all children was mutual. He usually had Tootsie Rolls in his pocket which he dispersed freely to us and Happy’s kids. Charlie wore blue work shirts and bib overalls, heavy workshoes, and an ever present red bandanna handkerchief completed his attire. The handkerchief was a necessity because he sweated continuously and profusely. After an hour or two, his kerchief was so soaked from mopping his face, that we longed to supply him with a dry one.

There were no bathing facilities at the fish camp or laundry supplies either. Charlie had a fragrance all of his own. I’m certain that Florence needed to air out her place after he had completed his tasks for the day. I don’t mean to imply that he was dirty. He did the best he could with what was available to him. It’s just that not much was available, and his work often involved messy, dirty jobs. I would guess that periodically Cora or her mother did some laundry for him. Cora’s home had electricity and she had a washing machine. Charlie was the glue that held our summer lives together.

As Happy’s helper, he pulled fish nets, made ice, repaired the dirt road and probably helped load and unload the supplies for the still, as well as the finished product. How ironic that this business was carried out by Nipper and Spiker.

(About the Author: Joan Leschensky Grosshuesch grew up in Waukon. Her maternal great grandparents were early homesteaders in the area. Grosshuesch has made her home in Wisconsin for the last 47 years with her husband Ruben, who is a retired clergyman, in Sheboygan, WI. They are the parents of four adult children. Grosshuesch is the sister of John Leschensky of Waukon. Her parents were Emil and Clarice Dillenberg Leschensky.)