Sippin' With the Gov

An Apostle Islands Postcard

Most often, I go out alone. But there are times when I want a little company. In those moments, all I need to do is tie up to the Manitou Island dock, close my eyes and take myself back in time.

In the 1930’s this little ramshackle collection of cabins and sheds acted as a kind of catch-all for boatless, sometimes down-on-their-luck fishermen, mostly bachelors, looking for a place to fish or hide or both. It played host to a revolving cast of characters with colorful names like “Jingling” Johnson, Black Pete, and “Captain” Gottfried Bark. Beginning in 1938, the site was owned by Hjalmer Olson, a self-described man “with a weak back but a strong mind” along with his brother Ted. Used mostly in the winter, the fishermen at the Manitou Fish Camp would set nets under the stable ice around Manitou Island, and then muscle their catch the three miles across the ice to the mainland on wooden sleds pulled by their own sheer will, maybe a few dogs, and sometimes with the help of a horse named Jim.

It was a backwater kind of place, far off the main current of society, and sometimes out of step with the times, like the evening Hjalmer, unsure of the proper attire when one attended the movie house in Ashland, showed up in his best suit. “Geez, Hjalmer,” one of his buddies chided him, “You look like the damn Governor!” And thereafter, he became known to one and all as “the Gov.”

The Gov is long gone, having sold the place in 1964, retaining his rights to use the site until 1983. But the Gov’s cabin remains, restored by the National Park Service right down to a hand of poker dealt on the table and a bottle of long-gone sipping whiskey. Still, in the silence of the islands, it doesn’t take much imagination to hear the laughter, the slap of the cards, to catch the scent of cigar smoke and wet wool, to put yourself right there at the table with a group of bachelor fishermen just waiting out another night, hoping for a pair of aces, a few lake trout in the nets, and maybe one more sip of whiskey before the next hand gets dealt.

— Jeff Rennicke (all photographs by the author unless otherwise noted)

These Apostle Islands postcards every Sunday are an offshoot of the “Little Dipper” blog. Paid subscribers to the blog also receive an original, full-length illustrated essay delivered right to their inbox every Wednesday. Subscribe. Come along for the ride aboard the “Little Dipper.”