In the fall 1978 I heard The Old Bowens Mills was for sale.

I can still feel the excitement and that little tingle in my tummy when I first heard that The Old Mill was for sale. I could hardly wait to tell my husband, Neal. I said, “The Old Mills for sale, lets go look at it, just for fun.” We did, we went to look and never dreamed how that day would so totally and drastically change our lives forever!

I was so totally involved in all our projects I never had time to do anything extra. Now that I’m ‘retired’ I will try to share some of my memories. Here goes….

Old Bowens Mills is a four story water powered grist and cider mill, a state historic, site which was built in 1864 but had been abandoned for nearly 40 years. It is situated in a grove of Walnut Trees, next to its good sized tranquil, reflection pond. There were 19 acres of land where an abundance of seedling pines had been planted at random and were at that time about 3 foot tall. What a beautiful, peaceful setting. It was located about three miles or so from our home at Gun Lake, in beautiful Yankee Springs Township, Barry County, Michigan. It sat back from Briggs Road about 800’, so was barely in view of that main street. We traveled that way every few days and for years and I always tried to get a little peek of The Old Mill as we past by. Many people who lived close by never knew it was there until we came along and woke things up.

How well I remember that day, the former owners given us the key and we spent the whole day there rummaging around the deserted building, spending several hours on each of its floors. It was an unusual day, coolish in the morning, latter it turned off nice and then all of the sudden a quick storm blew in. It was as if we were being told, ‘this is what it’s like when it’s cool, warm or rainy.’ We could see that the roof needed repairs in certain places, which didn’t seem too serious and did not dampen our spirits. The road needed to be recrowned, because the water from the rain was running around and through the lower level of the mill instead of into the pond as it was designed to do. It was good for us to know these things.

Although most of the building was basically sound, the years of vandalism, disuse and slow deterioration had taken its toll. They say, “The worse use is no use.” We found that to be very true!

Under the dust and dirt, we discovered that besides the roof leaking here and there, lots of the siding had rotted and needed replacement or repair. There were some crumbling foundations and many doors and windows were boarded up where vandals had invaded.

Somehow, we were not seeing all these negative things:

We could almost feel Mr. Bowen’s presence and the pride he must have felt when he pinned the post and beams together.

We could almost hear the laughter and joking of the ‘old timers’ as they came with their wagons, loaded with grain to be ground and apples to be pressed into cider

We could almost feel the heartache and tears when the various accidents and deaths took place on the mill grounds, so many years ago.

We could almost feel the despair when the dam went out in 1901 and 1943 and The Old Mill teetered on its two end foundations and flood waters destroyed the saw mill and basement and much of its contents.

We could almost feel the disappointment—the let down, as we viewed the huge old broken gear, which was at last the cause for the water power to finely close down after 75 years of continuous operation.

Plans had been made with our three daughters and their families to bring pizza and join us in the late afternoon so that they could get at look at it too. We were most eager to show them every nook and cranny.

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As we stood viewing The Old Mill, with grass and weeds up to our arm pits and pop cans and trash everywhere, I didn’t see all of the problems. I was seeing The Mill all restored, repainted, a large lawn looking like a park. I saw lots of people and children enjoying themselves touring this historic landmark and learning about the past. Many weddings taking place down by the old mill stream. Neighborhood kids would be coming for Bible Club, and there would be plenty of outdoor gospel concerts each year. It was such a peaceful place. I knew people would love to get out of the rush of their everyday city life and relax and enjoy the tranquility that surrounds The Old Mill and its setting.

I could feel a stirring in my inter being and I started thinking with my heart instead of our head.

I had fallen in love with The Old Mill.

Right away, I knew we had a very important decision to make. “Should we try to restore this poor Old Mill or just turn our backs and walk away and try to forget it as many others had done?”

The big thing that made that decision so hard was my husband, Neal’s. disabilities. In 1970, at age 40, he hurt his back in an industrial accident. After enduring two unsuccessful fusion surgeries, he was left to tolerate a life where the pain never stopped and he was forced to spend about 99% his time each day flat on his back. Several years later he suffered a heart attack because of his inactive life and was troubled with the aftermath of that also. He was able to get up and be around for 15 or 20 minutes at a time maybe three or four times a day, on his good days, but otherwise he had to be down flat, day in and day out. That didn’t take the pain away, but it made is almost tolerable.

Our home on Gun Lake was paid for and remolded with new carpeting and appliances added while we were both still working. We had a nice pick up and camper and it was so good to know that everything we had was paid for we didn’t owe anyone anything. We had even put some money into savings.

We hated being ‘set aside,’ so to speak; both of us were people who liked to see things happen. Before Neal’s back energy we were heavily involved in church, school and social events and on the go all the time. He hadn’t been able to go back to his job of Plant Manger of a Tool and Die Shop since his misfortune and I quit my good job as Office Manger at a Plastic Molding Plant after he had his heart attack to be at home to care for him. All our activities had to be canceled. It was nice just enjoying our cottage and the lake at first but after a while it seemed like we were on one long coffee break, year after year, after year! We were ready for some action.

Our first task before we could come up with a positive decision was to visit the Yankee Springs Township offices. I needed to share our vision and explain to them what we were thinking of doing. With Neal’s health problems, I did not want to go into this project if there was opposition; we had enough stress in our lives already. Taking on The Old Mill project would hopefully be therapy not added pressure.

Permits and inspections and things like that troubled us. It would be hard to work on a project such as this if there were demands as to how we did it. Upon speaking to the Township, told me they had no guide lines for historic restorations. We had lived in the area for most of our lives and were well known to them all. Their answer was, “We know you people, and know that whatever you do, you will do right.” I felt good about that. They were very pleased to know we were interested in the restoration. As far as we know Bowens Mills is the only existing water powered grist and cider mill in Michigan.

I then made a visit to the entire neighborhood and was delighted to find encouragement from everyone I talked to. The derelict old building had been vacated and pretty much unused for close to forty years, it was a target for vandals. Kids thought it was a great place for wild parties, so the people of the neighborhood hoped that all that would come to an end once we were there.

In four weeks that we were trying to decide if The Mill was for us or not, it was broke into four times. For some reason a few people seem to think a vacant building is ‘up for grabs’. They don’t stop to think someone still owns it. That was a little frightening but once we made the deal and started the clean up and restorations the vandalism stopped.

Even after speaking to all these people and getting so much encouragement we still had an important decision to make, a decision that would no doubt change our lives forever. A voice inside our heads was saying, a big “NO-NO! You can’t do it, with Neal’s ailments, there’s NO way you can do it.” Yet, something deep inside our hearts kept saying, “YES, YES, YES!!” Something we hadn’t counted on was happening—we were losing our sense of logic and we were suddenly thinking with our hearts instead of our heads. Something kept telling us, “YOU CAN DO IT.”

One day I would say, “NO, I think we should just forget it and stay where we are.” Neal would try to convince me that it was ok and we should try. The next day he would be telling me “No, we just can’t do it.” By then I was saying, “Yes, yes.” Then one day we were both in the mind frame that we should go ahead and buy The Old Mill. A phone call with an offer was made and before we knew it….we owned a mill!!!

The deal was closed October 1, 1978. The Old Mill now had brand new owners.…Neal and Marion Cook….and a new name….HISTORIC BOWENS MILLS. We took on the slogans of: “Say Yes to Yesterday” and “The Past Lives Again.” Our mission was: “Preserving Yankee Spring Township and Barry County’s past for future generations to learn from and enjoy.”

Even though I wanted The Mill with a passion it was hard to give up our beautiful cottage that we had owned for so many years. It had to be put up for sale. Our savings were gone. What money we had set aside while we were in the ‘working world’, had been spent to supplement what our insurance didn’t pay at the many hospital stays over the years. The cottages value was about the same as the asking price of The Old Mill and we needed the money to complete the transaction. In the end, the cottage was sold and The Mill purchased and everything was timed out just right.

Had we really forfeited our lovely home on Gun Lake, it held so many wonderful memories of the fun we all had there when the kids were young, where everything was done and in its place, so we could buy this dirty old run down Mill that had no living quarters? It didn’t even have any running water or plumbing! It did have a limited amount of electric, which consisted of two hanging light bulbs but no plug-ins. Two light bulbs for four floors, does that make sense? Well, it seemed to. There were so many wonderful ideas and plans running around in my head, that it made it, somehow, seem okay.

Our family came and helped us as we packed up all our ‘precious belongings,’ which was a lot. We were both ‘keepers.’ Everything was put into barrels and boxes and was taken to The Mill. We felt a little shaky about this with all the vandalism that had gone on. There was also the concern of all the little critters that had taken up residents in the old building over the years.

The day that the big move was made from the cottage to the mill a whole bunch of our friends showed up to help out. I really can’t remember exactly how many people were there but we ended up with 17 pick-up trucks along with several pulling trailers. I thought we could probably make the move with one caravan, however, that guess was way off. They all had to go back and forth several times. Once they were to The Mill, they created a relay line from the truck that was being unloaded to the area of where it would be stored for the winter. It was pretty neat to watch them pass the boxes from man to man and finely end up with them in place. I felt so indebted to them all. It was hard to believe they were having such a wonderful time while they were working. Joking and laughter could be heard from all directions!

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Our winters had been spent in Florida for many years. Neal was unable to tolerate the cold weather in Michigan. Before we left for our southern home we made detailed drawings of each floor, showing where each window, door and support beams were situated. This would help us when it came time to make some more important decisions. Like: where are we going to live, for one?

The winter was spent hashing over many things that we would have to face upon our return. After spending quite sometime thinking and talking about what would work the best for our future, it was decided we would make our living quarters in The Mill. With Neal’s limited time to be up and around, we knew he had to be there or he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

By the end of the winter we had drawings of our house plans, it was determined that our home would be on the third level. The main floor needed to be kept open for our museum and the lower level was like walkout basement and we had plans to reconstruct our blacksmith shop down there along with a water powered machine shop.

In the spring, upon our homecoming, we found all of our ‘precious belongings’ just as we had left them. It was a cold, hard winter and I think the vandals stayed in their warm homes and watched TV. So that was a relief to find everything all ok.

We were so wound up as we started our first full year (1979). Our original plan was to spend our nights at our daughter Dawns house and travel to the Mill to work during the day. We soon knew we needed to be there night and day. Every few nights the ‘party people’ would come for one of their outings. We had an Open Road Mini Van which had a small kitchen, couch (that made into a bed) and a bathroom. So we started staying in it nights. When the ‘party people’ would come, Neal would call out the van window in a load, low voice, “You need to leave this property right away.” I always laughed, because it didn’t take them long to get on their way. Of course everyone thought The Old Mill was haunted, so they were feeling sort of creepy when they were there anyway. When they heard that voice and didn’t know from where it came, they were spooked and out of there in record time.

Family, friends and neighbors came day after day and volunteered time and materials. Sometimes we would wake up in the morning and items would be on the front dock; old windows, doors, lumber, wiring--it was amazing. Some things we never did find out where they came from but it was always things we needed, and every little bit helped.

Most of our extra time that year was spent cleaning and scrubbing plus reinforcing and replacing the foundations and beams that were in the worse shape. Many doors and windows were replaced too.

Several of the flat lawn cots that have the aluminum frames were purchased. They are light weight and easy to move around. Neal could lay on one of them where ever our projects might be, to over see it and give his advice. He knew how to do most everything but was not able to be up long enough to do it because of his pain. He always made plans and drawings in the evenings and had the next days work all planed out. I always said, “He was the captain, we were the crew.”

It was surprising all the things Neal could do while lying on his back; he was always busy with one thing or another. I would always try to keep the supplies for his projects handy while he worked.

A lawn and parking lot had to be made so we would have room for the events we had planned and all we had was a worn out old push lawn mower. In my spare time, I would go out and mow for 20 minutes or so, then to catch my breath I would work on cleaning up some of the many burn and trash piles that had been made over the years, then go back to the mowing again. After a few years we scraped together enough money to buy a used riding lawn mower. That was a happy day for me even though I was scared to death when I was driving it. It did make my life much easier!!

As time went by, the area that once had grass and weeds up to our arm pits became a nice lawn. It wasn’t a very large lawn that first year but it was a start. Each year it became a little bigger and a little bigger, at the present time there are many acres that are mowed and it does look like a park, just as it did in my vision that very first day I viewed The Old Mill.

We did so enjoy sharing The Mill with our grandchildren. They loved to spend time with us and we loved to have them there. They would come over almost every Friday night to stay over and would be with us when we were open during the day on Saturdays. It was really togetherness when we were still sleeping in the camper. One of the kids said one night as we were settling down, “Boy, this is almost like camping out.” We got a real big kick out of that, you couldn’t get much closer to camping out as we did that first summer. We sure made a lot of wonderful memories there with the kids.

When we bought The Mill our grand children were ages: Stacey, 9; Chad and Sarah were 7 and O.J was 4 years old. There was always something to work at and we always worked hard and then played hard. I picked up an old kids size work bench at a garage sale, we fixed up a corner of our work room for them, with their own tools and etc. They spent many hours in there making airplanes and other things Grandfather would help them with. I still have some to those things as keepsakes. If at all possible, we would take Mondays off and go somewhere and do something fun and special. The kids were always included in these outings too in the summer time. Trips to museums, carnivals, state parks and concerts were some of our favorite places to go with them.

When they got older I hired them to work, when they wanted to help, just like I did the neighborhood kids. We kept track of their hours and they would many times want me to keep their money until they had enough saved up to by a new bike or stereo or TV or something else they wanted. It was most rewarding to me to see them want to save their money and get something nice with it, rather that nickel and dime it away as some of our other helpers did.

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Besides or local family members some of our main hired help with The Mill restorations were one of Neal’s cousins who worked for several summers and one of my nephews who worked for us later, on his college break for two years.

Three different summers we brought one of our grandkids back with us from Florida. They had orders from their parents that they worked for a couple hours each day for their room and board and then we paid them for what they did after that. So they had something to show for their time too. There was always someone around to do the jobs we couldn’t get to. Our Michigan grandkids were close by and were there a lot too. So it was easy to get those small jobs done, the larger ones took a little longer.

The neighborhood kids were always pounding on our door wanting to know if I was hiring. I paid them to do small jobs for me too. I always had a good time working together with them and enjoyed teaching them how to do things. I always told them, I was helping to train them for their ‘real job’ they would one day have.

It was amazing how many times people would stop in to spend an afternoon or a day or a week volunteering help. We owe a debt of gratitude to those who donated time and materials. Many times people we didn’t even know came. We have made so many wonderful, new friends. But most of all, our family had stuck by us, helping way beyond what one would ever expect.

There was a little office on The Mills main floor. At least a hundred years of dust and dirt were on the wall and beams. After it was cleaned and then cleaned some more, it was finely ready for its new life. I brought in one of Neal’s cots for him to lie on, put up a card table and brought in some old straight chairs. I made a red and white checked cloth for the table with matching curtains for the two windows. When it was finished it became our cozy temporary Living Room, Dining room and where we entertained when our friends came to see our progress. There were a lot of them coming and going all the time. We always chuckled after they left, wondering what they were saying about us and our project. Everything was such mess at first; they must have thought we were crazy for taking on such a venture.

When we got The Mill, we knew we needed signs to let folks know where we were at. The fact that the old building set back from the road so far, many area cars drove up and down our road day after day and never knew it was there.

One of our first purchases was two sheets of heavy plywood. One was cut into four pieces, 2’ x 4’ each, to be used for signs on the near by corners. The other was left in one piece but a special fancy edge was cut on the top and bottom to make it look exceptional. I painted them with 4 coats of a nice shade of pale yellow to make sure they would last a long time once they were up. I came up with a nice simple sketch of The Mill for one corner and Historic Bowens Mills and the hours we were open and directions painted in black on the remaining areas. It took a long time to get them all done but I was more that pleased with the results once they were finished.

The sketch of The Old Mill was what caught people’s eye. Years ago I had a teacher who repeated over and over to us, “What the eye sees leaves a lasting impression.” Folks would come and say, “I saw that picture of The Mill on your sign and I just had to come see it for myself.”

The entrance to The Old Mill had always come in from the little town of Bowens Mills Main Street. We knew we would be having lots of traffic coming and going once we were open and the festivals started so we developed a new entrance across our field directing the traffic in from Briggs Road, which our property bordered on. That kept the hub-bub away from town.

The big sign was erected near the new drive. Deep groves were made in two heavy duty wood fence posts and the sign inserted into the groves. We took pains to do it right and make sure it was sturdy but looked nice. We thought it would stand there forever. Once it was up, we were so proud.

It wasn’t too long after it was up that I received a phone call telling me some one had written bad words across the it. The sign couldn’t be seen from The Mill so I was thankful they let me know. I felt sick. So ‘in my spare time’ I went down there with paint brushes and paint and repaired the damage. I managed to bring it back to the way it was. It made me sort of sick though, we were working day and night to try and make “The Past Live Again” and I felt crushed to have been sabotaged like this.

Several weeks later, I was returning from the Sunday Morning services at our little Bowens Mills Chapel on Main Street in our little village. As I came around the corner heading to our little trail leading to The Mill, I thought, “Something’s wrong.” My heart sank as I saw the blank place where our beautiful big sign once stood. Some one had taken our sign away.

I went right to The Mill and told Neal that it was gone and called the police. We met the police at the end of the drive. The thief had brought a sledge hammer and managed to break it loose from those big posts. It took quite a few blows to do it but they had taken it away. The only thing left were the two post and two beer bottles that were still half full. One was sitting in the drive it’s self and the other was where the sign once stood.

I knew the bottles were evidence and I knew in my heart, that the police could take them in and find finger prints and maybe find who had done this crime. But the police said, “We have no proof that whoever left these bottles here were the ones who took the sign, anyone could have left them here.” (????) When I protested his thoughts he said, “Lady, just be glad they didn’t burn The Old Mill down, then we would have something to worry about.” So, I went home with a heavy heart, feeling wounded by what had been done, as well, as the ‘I don’t care feeling’ I gotten from the policeman.

We still had one of our little signs we had made for a near by corner that had not been placed yet. For many years, it took the place of our beautiful big sign that we had spent so much time and money on.

A few years passed, by using that little sign, with the dream of replacing it with a really nice one soon, but we were always to busy and short of money to worry about it much. One day we were discussing it with a friend who was a stone mason and did cement work of all kinds. He said he would be glad to help us out and make a sign that no one could steal. That sounded good to us and we told him some ideas we had. It ended up that he constructed the huge striking replica of a Mill Stone, which now graces The Mills front entrance. The Mill Stone stands on an attractive circle of cut stone, making it a nine foot monument in all. Historic Bowens Mills is sand blasted into it. When it came time to pay the bill for his work, he charged a very small fee to do it. We were always so thankful and humbled by the way most everyone wanted to see our work do well.

The Old Mill Stones were dusted up, as soon as I had time, along with some other relics and our collection of area history and the main floor was transformed into a museum. I fixed up a nice little cozy corner for our guest to gather and visit with us. I made a bed for Neal to lie on out of an old lumber cart that the former owners had left; we had four barrel rocking chairs that we had used in our living room at the cottage and some other old furniture that ‘fit’ in. It was not only cozy but comfortable and looked like belonged there. We opened the doors to the public Friday and Saturday afternoon each week. That gave us personal time to spend with our guest to share the history of The Old Mill and the area. I still after all these years have people tell me how much they enjoyed coming by and visiting, seeing the new (old) things we had done and learning more about the history of The Mill.

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As one enters the main floor there is an area at least 16’ x 16’ square. I made that spot into my little museum store which I called: “MARION‘S ANTIQUES AND SUCH.” I sold antiques and collectables and just about anything I could find that was interesting and maybe wouldn’t be found in everyone else’s store. An antique cash resister, old shelves and display racks fit into ‘the look’ very nicely and I made a little extra money there too. Once I didn’t need the mill office for our personal use, my store expanded into that room also.

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One of the prize processions in the area history collection is an Indian Dug canoe. We had acquired it many years before we had The Mill.

When our girls were young, in the spring, we always loved to take a ride around the trails of Yankee Springs to enjoy the woods and new life spring always brought.

Part of our trip was usually to stop in and take another look at the Indian Canoe at old Mr. Streeter’s (of Streeter’s Resort) on Gun Lake.

One of us would always go to his door to ask if it was okay that we looked at it. He would always say “Go ahead, thanks for asking, most people don’t.” So we would go out behind his garage, the old canoe was laying on two saw horses, covered with a long piece of rolled roofing. It was painted boat green. We always stood in awe as we viewed it, that it could be in such good shape, was amazing.

One year when we went to see the canoe, Mr. Streeter followed us out there. He asked us, ‘What would you do with it, if you had it.” That took us back a bit. We told him, “We would feel much honored and would take the best of care of it.” He said, “You wouldn’t sell it to an antique dealer, would you?” We said, “Oh no! It would be nice if some day we had a museum to put it in,” (never dreaming that that would really happen.) He said, “I’m going to sell it to you.” We thought, “WOW!” But said, “How much?” He gave a figure that today seems like nothing but at that time in our lives it was hard to come up with…..but we did!

Mr. Streeter told us some kids found the canoe buried in the mud in Payne Creek, not to far from where the creek dumps into Gun Lake. There was just a small part of it showing and they realized it was something and worked for three days digging it out. He bought it from the kids.

We didn’t take much time in borrowing a truck to go get it and bring it to our cottage on Gun Lake. We were very glad to get it home in one piece. Right away Neal went after the green paint and scraped it all off, revealing that it was made of a curly maple log.

It really looked good now and like it would have looked in the old days. The paint was a good thing for it though, with it being stored outside, it preserved it from the elements. It would never be stored out side again, now that we had it.

A few years back a man that was traveling all the way across the nation writing a book on Indian Dug Out Canoes got track of ours and called and wanted to come and take some pictures and do a story about it for his book. I said, “Of course.” I had it taken down from its display rack and taken outside so he could take his pictures and do some measuring and write his description. He told me in all his travels our canoe was in the very best shape of any he had seen. Many times partially rotted pieces were all that was left of some of the specimens he had recorded.

The canoe now sits in its present and final resting place, on the main floor museum at Historic Bowens Mills. Payne Creek can be heard rippling along, singing little songs about its memories of when the old canoe used its waters to travel from hunting ground to hunting ground many years ago.

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When we bought the Old Mill there was an Indian Maiden laying in the tall grass in our front yard. She was made of sand stone (from the Hanover Mines near Jackson, Michigan.) We were told she was a monument carved to honor Chief Tecumseh’s wife.

She was approximately 8 foot tall and maybe 5 foot around and needed to be on her feet. She was deteriorating there on the ground and kids had been carving large, rough looking letters on her. We knew she needed to be erected and in view for people to see. One Saturday when our son-in laws were there we decided to take on the project

The Maiden really liked lying there in the grass. She fought us all the way when we were trying to get her to stand on the foundation we had made for her.

A tractor with a lift had been borrowed, thinking it would do the job. We got her moved to where we felt she should be but getting her up onto her feet was another story. It didn’t take long to realize the tractor wasn’t going to do it. There was a good sized limb above The Maidens foundation so a ‘chain lift’ was attached to it, hoping that would help the tractor do the trick. Upon trying again, the limb begin to creak, we didn’t want to loose it, so some big long post were propped under it to take some of the strain off. Another try and she tried to get up but couldn’t quite make it. So the volunteers lined up with pry poles on each side of her. As she was raised by the tractor and chain lift a few inches at a time, the pry poles would hold her while the tractor would get a little closer and lift again. The job that we thought would take a couple of hours took most of the day.

One of the former owners of The Mill purchased the Indian Maiden from an Indian artifact collector in Battle Creek, Michigan. This is the story he told us.

After buying the monument he didn’t go to pick it up for some time. He finely got a call telling him the man he had bought her from was digging a big hole beside The Maiden and planned to roll her in and cover her up. It was raining at the time and not a good time to make the move, however, he didn’t want to take a chance on loosing her.

A friend owned a vault business so a truck was borrowed and a trip was made to Battle Creek with him. Upon trying to load her onto the truck she slipped in the mud and into her newly dug grave, breaking the loading straps.

They then had to return to Hastings for a bigger truck. By the time they got back it was dark and still raining. With flash lights they managed to get her loaded and brought her to The Old Mill. They let The Maiden slide off the truck onto the ground and she remained there for many years.

She was just waiting for us to come along and wake her up and make her get up on her feet, the way she belonged.

Neal did a lot of research on Chief Tecumseh. I got him everything I could find that I thought might help in his studies including books from the state library. There was quite a bit available. When he finished his investigations, he had come to the conclusion that maybe the monument was made for Chief Tecumseh sister instead of his wife. Neal’s reasoning was, many of the books he read talked about the Chiefs sister and rarely mentioned his wife. This is speculation on my part; however I have spoken to other knowledgeable people who feel the same way about it.

If you were standing between the maiden and the big walnut tree, you would be in front of her. You can see she truly is a lady, (no doubt about that.) She has no facial imaging (against the rules.) She has on a long dress with a belt. Tucked in the belt there is a Tommy Hawk on her right side. There is something else tucked in on the other side, I’m not sure what that is.

Just a few years ago when I was weeding the flower bed I had made around her, I discovered a date. It was way down by the bottom of her foundation. I was amazed that I had never seen it before. I knew the sculptor had inscribed it because the numbers were all finished off nicely and all the same size. The date was 1862. It was hard to believe it was made two years before The Mill was built.

The Indian Maiden has her rightful place in history right here at Historic Bowens Mills where many of our Native American People lived and used the rivers, creeks and lakes for their highways, long before there was a Yankee Springs Township and a Barry County.

Another thing that was started that year is what we called “Old Fashion Day Festivals.” They were held on the third Saturday of the month, June through October. We had Mill tours, old time demos, live folk music, civil war camps, arts and crafts and flea markets and ect. and ect., anything I could think of to get people there. I did a lot of advertising and news releases with pictures to let it be known what was happening at old Historic Bowens Mills. The festivals caught on fast with hundreds of people coming from miles around to step into the past, for just a day. Their words of encouragement helped keep us going. We charged a small gate fee and it all helped bring in a little more money, which was always needed for materials and labor. The Old Mill had to pay its own way, just as it did in the old days.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Old Fashion Day Festivals were being well attended and we realized we needed an abode for our ‘gatekeeper.’ The old French Mill in Middleville was being torn down. One thing leads to another and we ended up buying the cupola that was on top of it. It was close to four foot square and had windows on each side. One of the windows was made into a Dutch Door so the gate person could stand inside and take in the gate fees when folks came to the festivals. It had to have some adjustments made but it turned out to be a bona fide piece of history ‘living again’ as it serves as our gate house.

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I soon found a lot more income was needed to finance this venture of ours. So I started giving oil painting classes. In my park in Florida, I had been taking classes for several years. I had never thought I was very artistic when it came to painting or drawing but I surprised myself with what I could do. I loved doing landscapes. When others in my park saw some of the pictures I had painted they would say, “I wish I could paint.” I would tell them to come over and I would help them. That was the first classes I gave and most of those were one on one. So, once we had returned to Michigan, I advertised “Oil Painting Classes at The Mill.” The people started frocking in. I was amazed at how many came and how I could teach them and help them come up with such nice pictures. A talent I didn’t know I had. Everyone had such a good time in class and it was very rewarding to help their dreams of painting come true.

For the next 15 years I taught three classes a week all summer. I would have a session on Monday and Wednesday mornings and one Tuesday evening. I found a wholesale place for supplies and frames and it all turned out to be a major support for all our restoration projects. We were living on disability income and never had any thing left over for extras.

I wish I had kept track of how many different people I taught over the years. It would be interesting. There would be hundreds I’m sure. Some would come and go; others would come each year and were still with me in my last class many years later.

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Not having a home now, we knew we had to fashion one out on The Mills’ third level where we had decided would be the best place for us to live. After a lot of cleaning, this area was finely ready to be made into our home. Some bats, flying squirrels and chipmunks were forced to leave first.

That first summer passed by all too swiftly, however, by fall, in our living area, we had completed a cozy family kitchen where we spend most of our free time. Originally this level was the mills; workshop and grain storage. The huge, ancient workbench and lots of other items surrounding it were moved to the fourth level.

Some of the grain storage bins had to be taken apart to make room for our home too. I found that was something I could do. Whenever I had some time I was up there with a wrecking bar and a hammer working on that. I found the wood to be very good, so as I took the bins apart I would use a saber saw and cut it to size for the wainscoting I wanted for the lower part of the family kitchen walls. One day one of my grandsons happened to be there with me as I was working on it. He said, “Nana, I didn’t know ladies could use a saw.” I showed the saw to him and said, “That bottom part right there looks just about like my sewing machine and I have used that for years, so I thought I should be able to use this too and sure enough I could.”

All the beams were left exposed. I wanted to come up with a home that looked like it belonged in our Mill. Many shelves and plate rails were added to house my salt dip and cup plate collections and many family pieces. I like to have things out where I can see and enjoy them.

Once everything was completed I furnished it with an old table and chairs that was my aunts, a hired mans bed for Neal to lie on, and a desk made of some old wood file cabinets with a wide board for the top for me. A wind-up phonograph case concealed the TV and VCR. Clean, stained bare floors with heavy large braided rugs enhanced the old time look. I was extremely delighted with the results and it looked like it had always been there.

We also “roughed in” our bathroom. It worked, which we were especially thankful for. I didn’t complain about the bare 2 by 4 walls or the blanket over the door. No more bathing in the mill stream!!!

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There were so many youngsters in the little Bowens Mills town that I decided to start my weekly “Kids Bible Club.” It was held every Tuesdays morning from 10am until 12 noon. My daughter, Carleen, helped me. It was a big hit. There was a lot of singing of songs with motions, puppet shows and a Bible Story by Granny, (my mom.) There was also lots of juice and cookies at closing time. Every week 30 – 35 kids would be lined up out side, waiting for the doors to open. Once a month we would take them on a field trip to the zoo or a park or hiking, whatever we thought they would enjoy doing. We had lots of fun and got to know the neighborhood kids at the same time.

We always tried to encourage the kids to stay on the straight and narrow and to hang out with the right crowds, live good lives and stay away from alcohol and drugs. Many of the kids didn’t receive much encouragement and love at home and needed to be told how special they were to us and God.

When we started out all the kids seemed to be about ages four years to nine or ten. As the years passed they kept getting older and I thought they would drop out but they continued to come. I then started a teen club for the older kids. Many times I would have Christian Businessmen to come and speak, giving testimony about their businesses and how they started out and how God had blessed them over the years.

It’s fun and gratifying when, years later, every now and then one of ‘my kids’ will stop by all grown up and with their families to see me. It always does my heart good to see them and hear how their lives are going.

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When autumn came and the apples were ripe, our attention turned to the antique cider press room. After days of cleaning and scrubbing, the cider press was ready to have the new (old) belts put on the huge pulleys and adjusted and re-adjusted and worked on some more and finally by mid-afternoon we saw our first cider pour out from under the huge press.

Once our day came to an end, everyone said we should have had a newspaper reporter there to write a story about the first cider making. I was sorry we didn’t think of that. I kept thinking, who could I get to do a story about it so we could share the excitement of the day with others?

The next morning when I had the TV on listening to a sermon, the preacher kept saying things about what we could do….he kept saying….”You can do it, you can do it.” That hit me right between the eyes. I sat down with a piece of paper and pen and words started coming. And this is what I wrote:

CIDER FLOWS FROM ANTIQUE PRESS…..

“It’s exciting to live in a mill,” one of the grandchildren was overheard saying. “Such cool things happen.” This was the feeling felt by all who were present as the time drew near to start pulling the levers to set the huge pulleys in motion to make the first cider in many years at Bowens Mills. It was just a year ago since Neal and I bought the old 1864 grist and cider mills and now family and friends have gathered for this eventful day.

The question was, “Will the gigantic old relic ever work?” After all, the cider press was brought to the location by Mr. Bowen in 1902 and it was not new then.

The old timers tell how it was always so busy every fall and how the horses with wagons full of apples were lined all the way back into town, waiting their turn at the press….Oh how good that first glass of cider must have tasted! But that was many years ago and the cider mill has not been used in well over 20 years.

Weeks of cleaning and preparation have passed….the racks are put into place, the last belt goes on, and the final drops of oil added.

On the day of our maiden venture into the cider making process, the men have been working in the area since dawn, and it’s hard to lure them to the breakfast table. Finally, the aroma of bacon and eggs and all the trimmings that the gals have prepared tempts them to the table and everyone is rounded up. All join hands and hearts to ask the Lords blessing on the food and the day.

Twenty- eight file past the food table and fill their plates high and find places to sit around the museum area. Spirits are high and there is much laughing and joking. Breakfast is consumed in record time and suddenly the men are back in the press room.

At last---much later than planned---everything is in order. It has been most rewarding to watch the combined efforts of both young and old as they labor together. There is no generation gap here. Last minute details have been checked and rechecked and hopefully everything is ready to go.

Clark Springer---son of E.D. Springer, a former owner of the mill is on hand and quietly directs the operation. The cider press is circled by a hopeful and anxious group. All are silent and hearts are beating faster.

Springer pulls the proper levers and the rumble and rattle of the huge overhead pulleys fill the mill. Cheers and whistles are heard over the roar.

The first apples are dumped into the conveyor and are carried up into the grinder. As the apples zip past the sharp knives, the juice seeps out and an intriguing fragrance fills the air….more cheers.

Soon the huge press raises and the racks of ground apples wrapped in blanket cloths are rolled into place. The press slowly lowers and cider rushes out….more cheers.

Excitement fills the room as well as a feeling of awe and reverence. It is as if we have for a moment, stepped into the past. We feel a kinship with Mr. Bowen. We share with him the joy and pride he must have felt on his first day at the press.

Suddenly, someone grabs a glass and fills it with the clear amber juice---before it runs into the wooden barrel below. It is passed from Neal to me and then to Mr. Springer for the first sample. How sweet it is!

Soon the day is so over and everyone is tired, but exuberant, over the accomplishments of the day. A day not one of us will ever forget.

Someone was heard saying as they all were leaving for their homes, “Boy, it’s surprising how hard you have to work to have so much fun!”

The Past Lives Again at Historic Bowens Mills.

The next morning I took my story to The Reminder in Hastings, Michigan and gave it to them. When I got home I had a call telling me they were sending out a photographer to get some pictures that afternoon.

I had all my grandchildren there, so when Elaine came she took pictures of us all around the different places in the cider mill. We were delighted when the paper came out that week that we got our picture was the front page and a full page story with four more pictures were inside.

I was pretty thrilled. It was my first attempt at writing a news release and it was printed word for word. I could never guess how many others articles I have written over the next 20 years.

As I look back now, that first year was something else! At the time I was so excited about “Our Mill” I hardly noticed how dirty or tired I would get each day.

As I would lie in bed at night, thinking about the things we had accomplished that day and what we would do ‘tomorrow,’ sometimes the Old Mill would creak and moan and I would wonder if it was trying to tell me something. If only it could really speak, there were so many things I would like to know about its past. I always wondered if Mr. Bowen was as excited and thrilled about his Mill as I was ours.

What a tiring, rewarding year! I looked forward to six months rest at our Florida home.

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Upon returning from Florida for our second season (1980) we were rested and excited and ready to get back and to pick up where we had left off. We started working right away on completing our living quarters. Before we even started on this project, I had made up my mind, we would only do one room at a time and not start another one until every thing was finished in the area we were working on. I didn’t want a lot of unfinished rooms to deal with.

The first thing on my ‘to do’ list was too complete the bathroom which I didn’t think would take to long, as the worst of it was done before we left for our winter retreat. Of course, everything always took much longer that I had planned but was worth the time spent once it was completed. It was especially nice to have a door on it, when there were so many workers and painting students coming and going, we never knew when someone would happen by just when you needed to be by yourself! Our helpers put in the insulation and then the wall board, once again leaving all the big support post exposed. A closet housed the washer and dryer and had lots of shelves were all hide behind the louvered doors.

Then it was my turn. The thing that took me the longest I think, was the wall papering. I made the big mistake of choosing a paper that had a tiny stripe. It was very pretty and really had a great look for the room. The post and beams looked all ok and straight enough just to glance at them but when I started trying to make those stripes match up and be straight it just wasn’t working. The old building had warped and sagged over all the countless years. The stripes would look okay and straight on one post but by time I got to the next one it was kiddy wampest. I finely figured out that if I did a lot of measuring I could put up a strip by one post, then go to the next post across the wall and do another strip by that, so that they were going towards each other, working from side to side, they would soon come together in the middle. That minimized where the stripes came together and I could live with that. I then hung a long wall hanging or picture over where they came together to break up the (un) matching stripes a little and I was okay with the way it turned out. It was a long drawn out procedure but looked quite striking once it was completed.

Once the walls were done I started working on the floors. I scrubbed them numerous times to remove over a hundred years of dirt and grime, then stenciled a nice border around the outside. After putting on several coats of wax they looked impressive. I was able to once again obtain the look I wanted….like it had always been there.

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Everything always took so long to accomplish, I never had very much time to work on ‘my things’, with all the other stuff that was going on around there and all the decisions I had to be constantly making on the restorations. So I was pretty relived when the bathroom was finely all finished and I could move on to the next adventure, which was the living room.

My helpers had been working on getting the walls insulated and the wall board on in the living room while I was working on the bathroom. As soon as they were finished I went shopping for wall paper. Upon realizing the “stenciled-look” paper I wanted for my living room would cost more than $400 and was way beyond my means, after much thought, I decided to try and stencil the walls myself (just like they did in the old days when the wallpapers cost so much.) Stencils and paints were not available back then as they are today. After spending a lot of time looking at many of my Early American Living magazines, I finely chose an old Moses Eaten pattern that I found a picture of and liked. Moses Eaten was a very well known person who in the old days went around from home to home stenciling walls for the pioneer folks who couldn’t afford wall coverings. At that time the wall papers were all imported and very expensive.

I decided upon his pineapple pattern, which is the symbol of hospitality, so that was perfect. It was one of his most renowned patterns. The walls were painted white and then Neal cut the stencils from sheets of mylar for me. I experimented with several kinds of paints and finally came up with an effect I liked. The pineapples were about one foot tall and always done in a dark navy with a deep wine for the leaf part. There was a little medallion type strip between each row of the pineapples.

In the old days they used to just start painting in one corner of the room and go on to the next corner, maybe ending with a part of a pattern. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to end abruptly with an unfinished pineapple so I started measuring again and came up with a plan where I could make it ‘fit’.

I then started painting. My stenciling was pretty slow going, I had to be very careful that I didn’t let the paints run or smear on the white background. The stencils had to be washed and dried completely after doing each pineapple. All the blues had to be done and dried before I could start on the wines. I began to think I would never get it all done but about a month later (and less than $20.00), the living room was handsomely done and remains so today. When it was finished I was very glad that I couldn’t afford the wall paper that I thought I wanted, this was much more appealing.

I chose to leave the post and beams and 12 foot ceiling exposed. More plate rails were built, using old lumber which we had purchased from someone that was demolishing an old building. This made a great place to display family pieces and other lovely miscellaneous antique dishes. An added brick wall that wrapped around a corner covering about five foot on each wall made a nice back drop for the pot bellied wood stove, which kept us nice and cozy on cool evenings. Antique furniture completed the quaint but comfortable room.

When our friends came to visit and saw my living room for the first time, they are amazed at the transformation and that was very rewarding for me.

The view of The Mill Pond from the living rooms, nine over six pane windows, was always breath taking with its perfect reflections below.

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Whenever there was an extra few minutes available the guys would be spending it on restoring the water power area of The Old Mill. There was much to do there. Some pieces were gone, others were found here and there. It was like putting a gigantic puzzle together. We definitely did not have the time we had hoped for or expected to have, to work down there.

The old turbine had been turned by hand, so we knew it would work. The Watergate had been freed up and repaired, an old wood bearing had been replaced, and the vertical steel shafting realigned. A trash rack had been added in front of the penstock (dam) so there wouldn’t be any surprises with something drifting into the turbine and causing trouble. Keyways were welded where they were broke or rusted away. It was so close, yet we could not rush; we could not and would not chance breaking some irreplaceable parts.

The Mill Stream tries to comfort us as it sings on,” I’ve waited 40 years, I can wait a little longer.” We tell ourselves “Soon the pressing things will be done and we’ll have more time….”

The cider time festivals were well attended again this year and many of the new friends we had made in the past year returned, we sold lots of cider. This time of year we had more money coming in to help pay the insurance and taxes, which was a great help!!!

It was a busy season and of course we didn’t get as much done as we had hoped, but we never did. All in all I felt good about the way things went!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Year number three, (1981) I again spent as much of my time as I could working on the rest of our living area. Many times I had to have advertising and calendar of events out months before our festivals, giving us many dead lines that were sometimes hard to keep. This was one. I had planned to have our living quarters ready for an ‘open house’ at the August Festival.

In the beginning we had planned to do the work on the restorations with no dead lines, remember? Finishing up our living quarters was one of the many, many dead lines we had trouble keeping, however, one way or another, we always ended up getting the projects done on time.

Finishing off the bedroom was the next thing in line. We had been sleeping on the hide-a-bed in the family kitchen all this time so we were ready for a bedroom!

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Do to the fact that I had advertised we would be holding the ‘open house’ of our newly completed living area; we were on a big push. It was decided we would hire a ‘real carpenter’ which would hopefully relieve us of some of the stress of getting the bedroom work done. Because of our money situation we had never thought we could afford a real one before, but we were desperate because of our dead line. Restorations are so different than work on new construction. Because of the way The Old Mill had sagged and settled over the years, it was impossible to use a square or level, everything had to be done to fit the way it was. Our carpenter assured us he knew all about how to go about it. It didn’t take to long to realize he had no idea what he was doing. What we wanted him to do was put in the closet walls and its door and make it look like it had always been there. It was almost as much work keeping track of him and making sure he was doing it right than if we had had one of our kid helpers do it. It finely got done, some of the stuff had to be redone (after he left) to make it look right, but knew there wouldn’t be any more work done by a ‘real’ carpenter.

Once again, beams and ceilings were worked around and left exposed. Appropriate wall-covering was added and it was just as big a job as the bathroom was only more so because the room was so much bigger. Plate rails were added again all the way around the room for my pitcher collection. Our bedroom set had been in storage waiting for us to be ready for it.

What a joy to again have a bedroom!!! All in all, once again, it turned out really nice and I was more than happy with the results.

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One thing I didn’t expect to get done that year was the upstairs hall and the stairway. The helpers were working on that while I worked on the wallpapering. I got some really old looking wall paper for that area. Somehow that got done too. so then with Carleen’s help we started in on that. It was hard to believe that we got something done that wasn’t ’on my list’.

There was a nice room way in the back of our living quarter’s floor that had three windows which faced the south and west. It was a very light pleasant room. A work area was put together there. Work benches and Neal’s tools were put in place there along with a bed for him to lay so he would be near his tools and could get things he needed without being up that long. It was a nice place for us to work on small things. Bookcases were built all along one wall in that room, it was nice to get the books out of the boxes and where they were stored so we could get to them.

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After all the rush and last minute things to get ready for our Festivals we were delighted to have our first open house and share our living quarters with our friends, both new and old. I had young tour guides in each room (granddaughters, nieces and neighborhood kids) all dressed up in old fashion looking clothes to guide our guest through. Free tickets were given out as the folks came so they didn’t have to stand in line because I didn’t want over eight people in a room at a time. While waiting, the guest could look over the museum and Neal would share The Mills history with them, so the time didn’t seem so long.

Hundreds of people passed through and expressed their amazement of our transformation. It was rewarding to see the looks of astonishment on their faces as they returned to the museums level. Somehow, all the work, sweat, frustrations and deadlines seemed worthwhile now. Many of the guest would tell the folks that were waiting that it was well worth the wait.

It was always hard for me to get past the windows when I was going from room to room. I did so enjoy the view, from those upstairs windows, looking down on The Mill Pond and its reflections. Even though the old glass was pretty wavy, it was always breathtaking, both day and night. Many times at night the stars could be seen reflected in the ponds still waters.

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We still needed more income we were doing so very much more than we had ever imagined we would. I got the idea just before the cider festivals that we should make a little kitchen there in the Cider Mill area and sell fresh baked apple pies and apple dumplings.

Right away some sliding windows were added to be used as a counter to sell out of. Then we put in a make shift work bench with two ovens under it. We bought a cheap used refrigerator and freezer and we were ready. I called it “The Cider Mill Café.” It didn’t cost hardly anything to put together and it really brought in the money.

While our guest were there watching the cider being made they were also seeing the apple dumplings and pies coming out of the ovens and smelling the awesome aroma. They just couldn’t wait to have some. Our specialty was a “Super Apple Dumpling.” It was a hot dumpling with a huge dip of ice cream covered with caramel and nuts. We also sold hot and cold cider by the cup and fresh baked donuts, ice cream sundays (made from ice cream and apple dumpling drippings) and apple dumpling shakes. People would gladly stand in line waiting for one of those extraordinary apple dishes. Every year there were those who would come, pay their gate fee and buy a Super Apple Dumpling, sit at one of the picnic table by the Old Mill Stream, eat it and then go home.

The Cider Mill Café became a huge source of income for us. I hired neighborhood kids to help me in the cafe and we had a great time working together. I would have probably 4 kids lined up at the counter, one would take orders and the others would quickly be putting the orders together. I tried to not tie myself to any certain job so I could step in and help where ever I was needed. Our ‘record’ day of selling apple dumplings was, 44 dozen on one weekend plus what ever apple pies and other items that were available but the apple dumplings were the big sellers. 44 dozenx12=528 dumplings. We were open 5 hours each day so that would equal about 52 dumplings each hour. However, we were never very busy the first hour, so that really made us rush, rush, rush the rest of the time. All the while I kept baking more, making sure we would not run out. I think if we had I would have had a riot on my hands. We were all breathless when closing time came. But we had fun along the way too.

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Now at last, the “pressing” things were done and our full attention is turned to the turbine and water power. We have moved along slowly, purposely—trying to do everything just right to avoid problems. We were ecstatic when we were finely ready to open The Mills’ Watergate. The gears began to creak and crack and groan and suddenly turn for the first time in 40 years. Our shouts of joy could be heard for blocks around., I’m sure.

Imagine our despair when we opened the Watergate a few days later and it was purring along as nicely as can be, then, all of the sudden there was a horrible thug. The Old Mill shuddered. The water power stopped! Our hearts skipped a beat, what could it be? Words cannot begin to express how we felt at that moment.

We knew something bad had happened, but had no idea what it could be. It was too late in the season for repairs, so another year had passed and still no corn meal grinding!

Even though we were we discouraged….we vowed...”This may slow us down-but we will not give up!!!

We headed off to Florida that fall with heavy hearts, not knowing what to expect upon our return.

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Our fourth season (1982) was another busy one. I don’t know what ever happened to the idea we could do things at our own pace and not have any deadlines. I was never sorry that we bought The Old Mill but by now I am wondering had I known then what I know now….would I still have pushed it to make that same decision.

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We were pretty proud of the change that took place on the outside of The Mill that year. There was a lot of siding that needed to be replaced and it had not been painted for 50 years, so it was badly needed. It took longer and cost more to get ready to paint then it did to paint it. Over the years, the vandals, rodents and the elements had taken their toile. A whole lot of the cedar siding had to be replaced which was both time consuming and expensive. I hired a man who had what he called a cherry picker, a crane looking thing with a bucket he could stand in and get around. It was no small task, with The Old Mill being four stories tall. In the old days, it was done with scaffolds. Oh my……..

Once the repairs were finished it didn’t take long to spray paint the main part of the building, however, the trim was a different story. The trim and cells of 29 windows and 7 doors had to be carefully painted white.

The Old Mill did look a whole lot taller and a whole lot prouder with its new coat of deep wine colored paint and its new white trim.

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Another one of the projects we did that year was finishing off the floors in The Mills lower level. Some of the neighborhood kids that were working for us got a chance to help with that too. It was a job! It was mostly a dirt floor and the flood waters of the broken dam in 1943 had made a mess of them. Some areas were a good three-foot higher than the others. Most of the dirt had to be taken out in a wheel barrel, it took weeks to get it leveled out. There was so much of our ‘stuff’ in way too, that it was hard to work. It had to be done in patches. Some of the ‘stuff’ would be piled to the ceiling to get it out of the way. The floor could then be leveled cement pored. Then we would try to put only the things back in that new area that would be there permanently once the job was finely finished.

At long last, the water powered machine shop was set up and ready for the craftsmen to work.

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Someone we knew was tearing down some old building in the near by town of Hastings. He said we could have all the bricks we wanted from that. Day after day we would go over there and pick up bricks and pile them in rows in the van to take back to The Mill. Carleen, Sarah and O.J. got in on helping me with that too. Heavy leather gloves had to be worn to protect our hands. But by the time we had enough bricks to do what we wanted to, my thumb joints were so swollen and sore that I could hardly make them work right. I still have trouble with them to this day.

At last the bricks were finely all transported and ready to be used to make an incredible floor in The Blacksmith Shop. We also used them to build the forge and chimney and the brick wall upstairs by the pot belly stove. They looked superb and like they had been there forever, once it was finished. It was great to have everything in order down there instead of the jungle. It was always impossible to find anything that we needed if it was in that area.

The Blacksmith and Brass Foundry Shops were put together and in operation before the year was over too. Of course it was another deadline again; it had to be ready of our next “Old Fashion Day” festival.

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Every spare moment that Neal was able to be up was spent down in the turbine area trying to find out what ever it was that had broken.. I always made it a point to be down there with him too. Of course, with my being so anxious about everything, I always wanted to be sure all the bases were covered, in case of trouble. It was quite a job getting those old square nuts off which were holding the turbine lid in place. After all, they had no doubt been on there since it was put in place way back when the Civil War was raging and Abe Lincoln was still alive.

What a relief, when it was finely opened, to find the turbine was all okay. Everything in that area was basically all right. What had happened was, a piece of wood, which looked much like a piece of fire wood, had been buried in 40 years of silt, in the penstock. It had washed out and into the power section. (We thought we had covered all the bases there too, but we missed that one piece of wood.) It stopped the turbine so fast that it twisted the main four inch shaft off at the top of the bearings! Talk about power…wow!

The repairs were mostly made but the final assembly was not completed until our ‘joyful day’ in the fall, when at last The Old Mill was finely in operation again.

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Once more we felt a deeper kinship with Mr. Bowen and a new respect for the workmen of the 1864 era, while we were handling that massive equipment. Everything is so enormous and heavy, it was hard to believe that they could do all the things they did not having any electric or tractors or cranes to help them out, as we do today.

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Every year the ‘The Cider Time” season has been growing and the excitement of turning bushels and bushels o apples into gallons and gallons of fresh sweet cider never leaves us.

As another year draws to an end, I am very thrilled about the progress we have made but I am more than ready for the return to our winter home in Florida. I need some ‘down time.’ Even though I will be many miles away, my heart is always at Historic Bowens Mills and my mind is constantly scheming and planning for the next season at The Old Mill and all the things that need to be accomplished towards its restoration.

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By the time our fifth season (1983) rolls around I realize we were no longer in control of these restorations projects.

We couldn’t stop!! We couldn’t?? Or we wouldn’t???

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That spring an old ‘Gun Lake Lap Strake Boat’ was donated to us. It was one of the historic steam boats made by one of the old fishing guides that use to cruised Gun Lake in the early 1900’s. As far as we could find out it was one of three that had survived over the years of disuse. It was a very unique boat and had a lot of area history included with it. It was 18 foot long but there was just one problem, it had laid on the ground for years so there was a rotted spot 18 foot long and about three foot wide on its side. Oh my…..

There was no cedar siding to be found that was 18 foot long. After lots of phone calls, a special piece of plywood 18 foot long and near to the right thickness was ordered. With some planning, we would make that work and after it was painted, no one would be the wiser. It took some doing to get the boards steamed and bent but once they were finely made to fit, in the end, it worked just as we had hoped it would.

It was always surprising how much longer it would take to get our jobs done then we would have planned. I would have Neal’s cot near the projects so he could over see everything and make sure it was done right but it always seemed we were rushing to meet our deadlines.

Once all the restoration was done on the boat, it was launched and christened “The Winn-Mill” in a grand ceremony. It used, with pride, for many years to take folks for rides on the Mill Pond. The view of The Mill and its reflection were spectacular from the boat rides.

The name, “Winn-Mill” was a play on words, ‘Winn’ was the mans first name who built the boat and ‘Mill’ was for The Old Mill.

It was a thrill for me to see “The Past Lives Again” in this, another piece of area history.

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In September, The Mills top floor was open for the first time. I was now going to have the much needed art gallery to teach my classes in. That floor was quite a challenge; it had been a place to put just anything that we didn’t know what else to do with for years. Nothing was ever thrown away. How did we know if we might need it? You can’t just go down to the hardware and buy parts for an old mill, you know.

After a lot of stashing of all the things we had stored up there and a lot of cleaning it was finely ready for me to use for my oil painting classes. This would make my life a whole lot easier. When my art gallery came to life up there, I had lots of room for my students. I now didn’t have to set up tables for each class and take them all down again after class. The gallery was just there waiting for me. What a blessing!!!

I had lots and lots of students by this time. It was so good to be able to just go up there and teach. In the past, I was teaching on The Mills main museum floor and I would have to set up tables for classes then take them down when we had tours coming in (which was most everyday) so it really kept me hopping.

The room was perfect for painting with lots of natural light with its five big windows and long florescent lights had been installed over the tables.

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There was lots of room up there and it was finely, very pleasant to have a place of ‘my own.’ The work room on the third level was to be ‘our’ work shop; however, whenever I tried to use it, my stuff always seemed to be in the way and etc. Now I more room than I knew what to do with and I could use the student’s tables for my workbenches to work on. I was overjoyed.

In one little corner I make an office, so I was able to get away from it all when I had a news release to write or advertisements to create. It was great to have a place for all the office supplies I needed and not have them hid all over the place in the living quarters. That was wonderful!

In another area up there, I created an old fashion sewing room all built around my grandmothers treadle sewing machine. I had an antique dress form with a dress from the civil war era on it and some other very old dresses lying around. Then, there was a trunk with old quilts hanging out of it, a sewing chair and old fabric in storage boxes sitting around it. All kinds of things like that to make it look real. I was happy with the effect and my guest thought it was pretty neat.

A loft about 12’ x 24’ was added across one end, to house the recreation of the old workshop which was originally on the third level and had to be moved to make room for our living quarters. Below the loft was another story. There was loads of equipment that there was no room for else where. I was okay with that for the time being but I had plans to eventually making that area into a cobblers shop and display many items that would come to live in it.

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Our cider time festivals seem to be growing and growing each year. We are now pressing over 100 bushels of apples each week. The yield of cider equals about 3 gallons per bushel. It seems impossible that we could sell that much cider each week but we did. Sometimes running out before the week was out.

A good share of our goods were sold on our Saturdays when we were pressing. However, for the week day sales, I had also set up a little ‘self serve market’ on the front dock of the mill with a box for buyers to put their money in. I dragged out an old set of shelves and loaded them down with jars of apple butter, baskets of apples and etc. Also, a refrigerator was added so folks could come and buy cider anytime during the week and help themselves. It proved to be very successful.

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It has been another demanding year, full of activity; nevertheless, again, there is much fulfillment in all the restorations that have taken place.

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1984 (our sixth year,) was one more gigantic year for us. The only house the Bowens ever built came up for sale. It joined The Mill property on two sides. We felt it would be a good thing to once again have it be a part of The Mills’ 17 acres and history. Old timers told us the 13 room Victorian Home was a show place in the community ‘in its day.’ Updating and remodeling and aluminum siding had taken away its former grandeur.

The big problem was, we were in Florida and we needed to make an offer long before we would be returning. Could we buy it un-sight and un-seen? Upon asking our daughter and son-in-law, Carleen and Owen Sabin, and my sister and brother-in-law, Gaye and Russ Patterson to look at it for us and take pictures, we got this report. “It will be a real challenge but after seeing what you have done for The Mill, we know you can do it and would be disappointed if you didn’t buy it.” They felt it would be a real asset for us.

An offer was made and accepted; we owned what we now call “The Bowen House.” Before we knew it, there was another refurbishment venture on our hands.

It was a pretty moving experience upon our return, to see the work that lay ahead of us now, with this an additional restoration mission to add to the many others.

Of course, there would be ‘no’’ deadlines for it to be done….???? Right….????

The first couple of years that we had The Bowen House were spent just trying to get things in order. A commercial dumpster was full every week just cleaning up the yard and other things that needed to be taken care of. I always tried to get up there every afternoon after my classes to spend some time. I made sure that dumpster was full of debris each week, before they came to empty it. There was so much to do and so little time to work on it. I keep wondering what have we done now???

The house was a typical farm house style; the rooms were all pretty large, which was nice. The Living room is about 17’x30’ and has a nice fireplace. The kitchen is about the same size. The parlor is 14’x14’. There were two smaller bedroom down stairs (which we made into two bathrooms) and four bedrooms upstairs. At the back of the house there is a nice Fourier, a shower room and laundry. The basement is large and divided into three rooms but much of it was dirt floor. Which we were able to have cemented after a few years.

The upstairs had never had anything done to it. It even had the original wall paper which was hard to believe. The downstairs and been remodeled and remuddled over the years. A lot of the walls had been covered with the 4’x8’ sheet of paneling which was so popular for a while in the ‘60’s.

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Another project we took on that summer was building a bridge. We needed a way to get to the other side of the creek where we would one day recreate the old water wheel which was on that end of The Mill in the old days. We were tossing ideas around about how it should be, just a common bridge, a hump back or maybe a covered bridge. What should it be? We finely decided on a covered bridge. We couldn’t do something simple; we had to go all the way.

A covered bridge now crosses over ‘The Old Mill Stream.’ The Village Lattice-style was built in memory of the bridge that once crossed the Thornapple River in Middleville. It is about one-third size.

The Bridge turned out to be and attractive addition and is an impressive place to view the old mill stream, a breathtaking position to take pictures and many weddings have been taking place there, using it for a back drop. It was defiantly worth all the effort it took to get it done.

It was named ‘The Big M’ bridge, the reason being: It crossed the old Mill Stream, much of the lumber was from the French Mill in Middleville and was donated by Mike and my name is Marion. What else could we name it?

The bridge was dedicated and the ribbon cut on our August Old Fashion Day Festival. News releases were sent out telling of the event. I encouraged people of all ages to come. The oldest person and the youngest person there would be the first to walk across once the ribbon was cut. Plenty of people showed up. There was lots of enthusiasm in the air, waiting to see who would be the first. Our friend Al spoke some words of dedication along with a prayer.

I then proceeded to find who would be the first to walk cross. Someone was there with a baby about one year old and was just learning to walk. He insisted Mom walk with him. So away they went hand in hand. They received a lasting hand clap upon their return. The little guy looked around trying to figure out why everyone was so excited. Then a search went out for the oldest one there. Mike’s uncle was among the guest and told us he was 94 years old. It was then his turn to walk across and back. He also received a round of applause.

It was a perfect day and I once again felt it was worth it all, when I saw the delighted looks on our visitor faces.

THE BIG M BRIDGE is now listed on the log of ‘The Covered Bridges of America.’ Covered Bridge lovers come by from all over to see it and take pictures.

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Our yard keeps getting bigger and bigger. This year we opened up the rest of the yard between The Mill and The Bowen House. That was a big undertaking. There were many wild Black Berry Bushes and lots of Sumac Bushes that had to be removed first. It took several weeks to complete. It certainly did look great when it was finished though!

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I always had lots of live old time music playing each of the days of our Old Fashion Days Festivals. Some people came with their lawn chairs and would just sit all afternoon and listen to that as if that was all that was happening. I really enjoyed listening to those old songs ringing out over the grounds even though I had to listen as I was hurrying here and there trying to keep everything running smooth.

Getting ready for our Festivals kept me busy, I always tried to have some new restorations to share with our visitors when they came.

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In our seventh year (1985)…A very pleasant personal highlight during that summer was when our daughter and son-in-law, Carleen and Owen Sabin, and their children, Sarah and O.J. moved to Bowens Mills. They were to be the caretakers of the Bowens House and would help with the many other projects. The grandkids were always glad to run errands and when we had tours they were a great help also.

Due to the fact that I had been having ‘Kids Bible Club’ once a week throughout the each summer and Carleen helping me with that, the move was made easier for the grandkids. There were always at least 30 to 35 kids flocking in so they were well acquainted with the neighborhood kids.

We kept a pretty busy schedule, Owen worked nights (11pm to 7am) so they would come down and help Neal mornings, then we would have our noon meal together, usually a picnic by the pond or creek. I was tied up many mornings, teaching my classes on Monday and Wednesday and Bible Club was on Tuesdays. Carleen and I always went for supplies all day Friday so our days were pretty full.

Work was started on the renovation of The Bowen House right after they moved in. There was old dark blue indoor-outdoor carpet that had been glued onto the huge (17’ x 30’) living room floor. When I pulled up some of the carpet in one of the corners, oak flooring was revealed. It was hard to believe! Oak floors would be covered up with cheap carpeting. Carleen and I worked for days getting that old carpet and all the glue up to expose gorgeous hardwood floors. After some sanding and putting an oil finish on them, they were stunning.

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The Old Mill Pond had been a place where kids had swam for years and years. Not being comfortable about the possibility of someone getting hurt or drowning, it was decided that the only time we would let the kids swim was when we girls, (Carleen and I,) would take a break in the afternoon from 2:00pm to 3:00pm. We would invite all the neighborhood kids to come swim in The Mill Pond for that hour. I bought plenty of tubes and all kinds of things for them to have fun with. So they had a ball.

There would up to thirty of them sometimes. We worked the buddy system and used whistles and counted heads to make sure they were all okay. It was fun for all of us and they played hard and were worn out and ready to come in when their hour was up.

One time we even worked up a ‘water ballet’ to some special music. They worked up all kinds of special motions and tricks to do in tune with the music. All the parents were invited to a pot luck dinner and “The Water Show” one night. Everyone showed up and we all had such a good time we thought we would do it again and again. The swimming continued but we never got around to doing another show or pot luck.

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Evenings would find us in our family kitchen, Neal doing his reading and drawings and studying, me at my desk working on ads, news releases and scheduling for the festivals.