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OF

Cover Design by Arthur Thrall, Lawrence University

TRANSACTIONS OF THE

WISCONSIN ACADEMY

OF SCIENCES, ARTS

AND LETTERS

LXV-1977

Editor

ELIZABETH McCOY

Copyright © 1977

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters.

Manufactured in United States of America.

All Rights Reserved.

TRANSACTIONS OF THE

WISCONSIN ACADEMY

Established 1870

Volume LXV 1977

OF ELMS AND THE ACADEMY 1

Robert E. Gard

SOIL EROSION IN THE LAKE STATES DRIFTLESS

AREA-A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE 5

Richard S. Sartz

WISCONSIN’S FIRST UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF THE ARTS 16

Adolph A. Suppan

NEW DEAL WORK PROJECTS AT THE

MILWAUKEE PUBLIC LIBRARY 28

Daniel F. Ring

LANDFORM DISTRIBUTION AND GENESIS IN

THE LANGLADE AND GREEN BAY GLACIAL

LOBES, NORTH-CENTRAL WISCONSIN 41

Allen R. Nelson and David M. Mickelson

CAMBRIAN CONGLOMERATE EXPOSURE

IN NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN:

A NEW INTERPRETATION 58

Allen F. Mattis

DEWEY AND NIETZSCHE: THEIR

INSTRUMENTALISM COMPARED 67

Alfred Castle

THERMAL PLUMES ALONG THE WISCONSIN

SHORE OF LAKE MICHIGAN 86

R. P. Madding, F. L. Scarpace

and T. Green

CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MARCOPHYTES

IN GREEN LAKE WISCONSIN,

FROM 1921 to 1971 120

Mary Jane Bumby

PHOTOSYNTHESIS OF THE SUBMERGENT

MACROPHYTE, CERATOPHYLLUM DEMERSUM,

IN LAKE MENDOTA 152

Piero Guillizzoni

EFFECTS OF MADISON METROPOLITAN WASTE

WATER EFFULENT ON WATER QUALITY IN

BADFISH CREEK, YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS 163

G. Fred Lee

BACK TO THE LAND: RURAL FINNISH

SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN 180

Arnold R. Alanen

GROWTH PATTERNS, FOOD HABITS AND

SEASONAL DISTRIBUTION OF YELLOW PERCH

IN SOUTHWESTERN LAKE MICHIGAN 204

Wayne F. Schaefer

STANDING CROP OF BENTHIC INVERTEBRATES

OF LAKE WINGRA AND LAKE MENDOTA,

WISCONSIN 217

Farouk M. El-Shamy

DISTRIBUTION OF FISH PARASITES FROM

TWO SOUTHEAST WISCONSIN STREAMS 225

Omar M. Amin

CHANGING ROLE OF THE EMERGENCY

ROOM AND ITS ACCEPTANCE BY

HOSPITAL PERSONNEL 231

Thomas W. Langreder

OCCURRENCE OF THE BREGMATIC BONE

IN THE RACCOON, PROCYON LOTOR 241

David E. Miller

TOXICITY OF ANTIMYCIN A TO ASELLUS

INTERMEDIUS, DUGESIA DOROTOCEPHALA ,

GAMMARUS PSEUDOLIMNAEUS ,

AND HYALELLA AZTECA

Paul C. Baumann, James W. A. Jaeger, and

Mary E. Antonioni

GOVERNMENTAL BODIES CAN OBTAIN

INTEREST-FREE LOANS

Edward E. Popp

ASPECTS OF THE BIOLOGY OF NELUMBO

PENTAPETALA (WALTER) FERNALD, THE

AMERICAN LOTUS, ON THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI

S. H. Shomer

COMPARISON OF WOODY VEGETATION IN

THREE STANDS NEAR NECEDAH, WISCONSIN

B, J. Cox

MEXICAN-AMERICAN IMMIGRANTS IN

WISCONSIN, WITH PARTICULAR EMPHASIS ON

MIGRANT FARM LABOR

James Provinzano

MADISON LITERARY CLUB CENTENNIAL

DINNER PROGRAM

WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS

OFFICERS 1977

President

Robert E. Gard

3507 Sunset Dr.

Madison, Wi 53705

Immediate Past President and

Honorary President

Elizabeth McCoy

R 4 Syene Rd.

Madison, Wi 53711

President Elect

Dale O’Brien

Box 278

Spring Green, Wi 53588

Vice President-Sciences

Robert A. McCabe

4501 Keating Tr.

Madison, Wi 53711

Vice President-Arts

Edward Kamarck

1852 Summit Ave.

Madison, Wi 53705

Vice President-Letters

Janet Dunleavy

2723 E. Bradford Ave.

Milwaukee, Wi 53211

Secretary-Treasurer

C. W. Threinen

2121 Gateway St.

Middleton, Wi 53562

The ACADEMY COUNCIL consists of the above officers PLUS

Past Presidents: Louis W. Busse, Katherine G. Nelson, Norman C.

Olson, Adolph A. Suppan and John W. Thomson

Elected Councilors: David Baerreis, John L. Blum, Cyril Kabat,

Malcolm McLean, William E. Sieker, Forest Stearns, Hannah

Swart, and F. Chandler Young

APPOINTED OFFICIALS

Executive Director and

Editor Wisconsin Academy

Review

James R. Batt

W.A.S.A.L. Office

1922 University Ave.

Madison, Wi 53705

Associate Director for

Junior Academy

LeRoy Lee

W.A.S.A.L. Office

Managing Editor Wisconsin

AcademyReview

Elizabeth Durbin

W.A.S.A.L. Office

Editor Transactions

Elizabeth McCoy

W.A.S.A.L. Office

Librarian

Jack A. Clarke

4232 Helen White Hall-UW

Madison, Wi 53706

EDITORIAL POLICY

The TRANSACTIONS of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and

Letters is an annual publication devoted to original papers, some

preference being given to the works of Academy members. Sound

manuscripts dealing with features of the State of Wisconsin and its people

are especially welcome, although papers on more general topics are

occasionally published. Subject matter experts will review each

manuscript submitted.

Contributors are asked to submit two copies of their manuscripts to the

Editor. The manuscripts should be typed double-spaced on 8% x 11" bond

paper. The title of the paper should be centered at the top of the first page

and should be typed in capital letters throughout The Author’s name and

brief address should appear below the title and toward the right hand

margin. They should be typed with capitals and lower case and the address

underlined for italics. Each page of the manuscript beyond the first should

bear the page number and author’s name for identification, e.g. Brown-2,

Brown-3, etc. A note on separate sheet should identify the author with his

institution, if appropriate, or with his personal address to be used in

Authors Addresses at the end of the printed volume.

The style of the text may be that of scholarly writing in the field of the

author, but to minimize printing costs the Editor suggests that the general

form of the current volume of Transactions be examined and followed as far

as possible. For the Science papers an ABSTRACT is requested.

Documentary NOTATIONS may be useful, especially for the Arts and

Letters papers, and should be typed and numbered for identification in the

text, such NOTATIONS, as a group, should be separate from the text pages

and may occupy one or more pages as needed. For the Science manuscripts,

or any other at the author’s choice, the references should be typed

alphabetically on page or pages at the end of the manuscript to be printed

under BIBLIOGRAPHY. The style of the references will be standardized

as in the current volume to promote accuracy and reduce printing costs.

The cost of printing is great. Therefore papers will be subject to a small

per page charge to the authors; the amount being determined yearly and

the authors so notified. Galley proofs and edited manuscript copy will be

forwarded to the authors for proof reading prior to publication, both must

be returned to the Editor, within one week. Reprints can then be ordered;

forms and instructions will be sent to the authors. Each author will also be

presented with one complimentary copy of the volume of Transactions in

which his work appears.

Papers received on or before NOVEMBER 15 will be considered for the

next annual volume. Manuscripts should be sent to;

Elizabeth McCoy

Editor: TRANSACTIONS

W.A.S.A.L. Office

1922 University Ave.

Madison, Wi 53705

ROBERT E. GARD

55th President 1977

WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES,

ARTS AND LETTERS

OF ELMS AND THE ACADEMY

Robert E. Gard

Presidential Address

May 7, 1977

Wausau , Wisconsin

I am eternally searching for symbols of a permanence in life; of

firm values that do not change, of faith and belief that is

unshakable.

It is growing harder and harder to find such symbols. Occasional-

ly I think I meet a man or woman who exemplifies what I mean, but

the symbolic, traditional objects and institutions with their

attendant securities, seem to be harder to find, or to recognize.

To me the Academy is one such symbol. It was founded by persons

of idealism, and has stood more than one hundred years, a symbol of

aspiration, of high hopes for mankind.

To me the Academy speaks of the magnification of man, of a vast

humanism that encompasses all time, all knowledge, all hope that

man might express the best of himself, not the worst. To me, the

Academy is this kind of an Island.

But the eras do change, and our traditional symbols do slip away.

I reverently hope that the Academy will remain, and that its ideals

will prevail.

Let us expand a bit on what I mean by changing or disappearing

symbols. The elm trees that once shaded America are excellent

examples.

Near the front door at our home in Madison, we had one of the

largest elms in the area. My wife purchased the house and property

because of that great tree. Often she said, “If that tree ever goes, I go,

too.”

We had the wonderful tree for 20 years; then, though we

struggled to save it with many scientific treatments, it withered and

died. My lady wept when the men came to cut it down.

Something soon happened to our environment. A ground cover

died the next summer; ivy began to cover the front of our house. The

whole front looked different, inadequate. But she didn’t go; she

stayed, and we planted another tree: a Gingko. She said it would

probably last for 500 years. I didn’t want another tree. I felt the

change. As a writer, the loss of the tree desensitized me for a while,

but that’s when I began to ponder about the death of elms across the

breadth of the land.

1

2

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The great elms are gone — victims of rampant dutch elm disease.

The streets the elms once adorned are blank, empty. The feeling of

grace, of an almost ageless tradition ended with the disappearance

of their tall arch. With their passing, an atmosphere has vanished;

the whole air of permanence, of a corridor through time, has passed.

We have had a corresponding generation of turmoil and unrest.

When I was a lad, I heard of the arch of the elms of New England;

and I was told how Kansas pioneers, many who came from the East,

first planted elms in the town square and lined the new streets with

the sturdy trees, almost before they built houses. The stability of

America itself somehow was symbolized by the elms.

Lately I visited my old hometown in Kansas. Once there were tall

elms in the courthouse park and green wooden benches placed

beneath them. At one side stood an old horse watering trough. But

when I visited last summer, the trees were all gone— so was the

trough; so, indeed, was the old red-brick courthouse. A low

structure of yellow brick, entirely unshaded, sat uneasily in the

middle of the park.

I cannot believe that the death of the elms has had no effect upon

us as a people. The tradition of a leisurely college life, enhanced by

the presence of great trees above a quadrangle, or along a student

walkway, appears to have departed. Perhaps students are more

restless than they were a generation ago. Could it be that great trees

that spoke of quietness, a timeless tradition, a deep feeling of place,

had their effect upon the young?

There is a bleakness now in the atmosphere of colleges. Two or

three generations hence, when the new trees have grown, the

atmosphere may return. But what in the meantime? Colleges are

not necessarily known for the beauty and uniformity of their

architecture. Without the trees, the buildings sometimes look stark,

and their windows empty and lonely. I have noticed also, as the trees

have disappeared, that the traditions of the colleges themselves

have grown less important— indeed, the traditions seem often

forgotten. I recently found the senior class calumet— the peace pipe

smoked in friendship by each senior class at the University of

Wisconsin since, I believe, 1887, in a dark closet, entirely forgotten.

The famed “little red wagon,” so important to athletic teams of the

university, has disappeared. Nobody knows where. It was the

wagon that students drew with ropes; hauling the victorious teams

from railroad station to campus.

And the tradition of great professors of magnificent bearing and

influence . . . where are they? In a time of great elms the great

1977]

Gard — Elms , Academy

3

professors flourished. Bennie Snow (Academy member), noted

professor of physics, who received a “skyrocket” before each class;

“Wild Bill” Kiekhoffer (Academy member), great economics

professor with a deep love of students; Carl Russell Fish (Academy

member), historian and lecturer par excellence who was literally

followed by groups of students wherever he walked under the elms

. . . these great professors have vanished with the trees. With them,

of course, have gone the cherished stories . . . Bennie Snow, for

example, one day walking down a sidewalk on State Street. He was

walking with one foot in the gutter, one on the walk. An inquisitive

student, noticing this curious performance, asked the professor

whether something was the matter. “Why,” said Bennie, “I believe

one leg feels somewhat shorter than the other.”

Ah, for the great trees again!

I have many older friends these days, especially since I myself

have qualified for the golden years. Once the elderly sat peacefully

beneath the elms. Tales told there carried on the oral tradition of

generations. A bench now, set on a bare corner or in a treeless park,

seems forlorn, though it may be occupied by two or three old cronies.

Their daily meeting, the passing talk, seems to lack the benediction

of the elms and often my older friends comment on the feeling of

loneliness and uneasiness.

“Elm shade,” one said, “was once the essence of friendship. Most of

our elms are gone in this town. We moved in from the farm, my wife

and I, to be under the elms . . . that’s what my wife said. She liked

this town because of the trees. She said the elm was a woman’s tree, a

woman’s friend. This town will never be the same to us since the

elms have gone. It’s harder now to make new friends.”

Our national values, our national character, may be affected by

the loss of the trees. There are many, many reasons why our whole

system of ethical and moral behavior is changing. The elms

certainly are not to blame; yet the changes have occurred

simultaneously with the death of these trees. The elms have always

symbolized home and its values; the lure and pull of a homestead, of

waiting friends and parents when one returns. Once, the trees

planted at the doorstep to commemorate family events furnished

shade and comfort in times of joy and grief. Now the trunks, dead

and gray, stand sometimes in the yard beside the door. Or there is

simply a blank space— or a stump remains where grandfather

planted the elm sapling when the first baby died in the fall of

1861 . . .

4

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

We are certainly a nation which has developed its character

through the associations of family life. Family life relied on the

elms. The effect of their going may be subconscious upon us; but a

phase of American life — the serene elm phase — probably will not

come again.

Let us hope that the death of the elm trees does not point toward

the demise of the ideals of the Academy.

Let us hope that we may preserve and nourish the Academy. It

may be more precious than we realize. But institutions and

organizations are subject to the winds of chance. Recognition of

values and planning for the winds of change are the only answer. I

plan to work on that, and trust that we all will.

SOIL EROSION IN THE LAKE STATES DRIFTLESS

AREA - A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

Richard S. Sartz (Retired)

USD A Forest Service

La Crosse

ABSTRACT

The paper briefly describes the geological, settlement, and

agricultural history of Wisconsin’s unglaciated or “Driftless Area”.

Gullying of forested ridge sides and river terraces was especially

severe during the 1920s and 1930s when the University of

Wisconsin, U. S. Department of Agriculture, andtheU.S. Forest

Service began surveys of the erosion problem. Erosion has been less

in recent years. Many gullies have healed naturally; the change

from horse plowing to tractor plowing has resulted in less

cultivation of steep slopes and less erosion. Ridgetops are used more

for pastures and hay fields than for annual grain crops.

INTRODUCTION

Geologists know it as the “Driftless Area,” local residents, as the

“Coulee Region”: “driftless” from the lack of glacial deposits (drift);

“coulee” because of the steep-sided, narrow valleys. But no matter

what one chooses to call it, the ridge-and-valley country of

southwestern Wisconsin and adjoining States is an unusual land.

Four times the great, continental glaciers pushed their icy fingers

down over the upper Mississippi valley region. Some reached far

down toward the tip of Illinois, and into Iowa. But for reasons still

not clearly understood, southwestern Wisconsin and adjacent parts

of Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois were bypassed each time by the

great, grinding mass of ice and rocks.

So, unlike the country that surrounds it, the land here was neither

scoured, leveled, nor filled. Indeed, of all the many ways that nature

uses to shape the face of the land, only erosion has been at work here.

In the Beginning

It began with nature’s relentless wearing down of primeval

mountains into primeval waters. It was then that the sandstones

and limestones that we see exposed today were laid down. As the

land emerged from the ancient sea a new cycle of erosion began, and

5

6

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the land forms of today’s Driftless Area — the flattopped ridges, the

slopes rising steeply from narrow valley floors, the rocky crags—

began to take shape (Fig. 1).

Although it was never touched by the ice sheets, much of the area

was nevertheless affected by the glacial advances. Erosion, this

time by wind, was again the agent. As the rivers that spewed from

the retreating glaciers finally subsided, they left in their wake huge

deposits of rock flour, of silt, and sand. And as this material dried

out it began to blow. We do not know how long this went on, but by

the time it had stopped, a 100-mile-wide strip of country along the

Mississippi River was blanketed with a layer of fine silt. In places it

was as much as 20 feet thick, and it covered most of today’s Driftless

Area.

Thus, time and erosion shaped the face of the land. Later trees

came to hold it in place— grasses too, because this region was the

boundary between forest and prairie.

No wonder that early explorers who paddled up the Mississippi to

view the bluffs and the steep hill country beyond the river were

awed by what they saw. “The scenery combines every element of

beauty and grandeur,” wrote one. “The sunlit prairie with its soft

FIGURE 1. Driftless Area landscape as seen from ridgetop. The forest is

oak-hickory and associated species.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

7

swell . . . the somber depth of primeval forests . . . cliffs rising

hundreds of feet . . . streams clear as crystal.”

But this was 150 years ago. The natural advantages of the region

brought on rapid settlement, primarily by Norwegian immigrants,

who had found a new world counterpart to the old country. The

sunlit prairie and the primeval forest began to give way to the plow

and to the axe and the grubbing tool. Farmsteads and fields of grain

began to dot the landscape; and a new cycle of erosion was not far off.

The Plowmans Folly

The settlers soon found that the deep, wind-laid blanket of silt was

an excellent soil. The flattopped ridges, remnants of the ancient

ocean bottom, were easily cleared and the rock-free soil was easily

plowed. Unfortunately, for both the settler and for posterity, the

amount of flat land was somewhat limited because much of the

ocean bottom had been worn down into steep slopes following the

period of geologic emergence. So a lot of steep land was cleared for

agriculture, too. After all, the soil was just as fertile; and the settlers

had been used to farming steep land back in the old country. Forests

were left only on slopes too steep to plow.

The soil was very productive, but also very erosive. The wind-laid

silt was free of rocks and relatively low in clay, the fine material that

binds soil particles together. So soil erosion was inevitable. Forest

remnants became the dumping ground for runoff water from

overlying fields. Gullies slashed through the wooded slopes,

disgorging rocks and rubble and silt onto valley floors and into

flooding streams. “Civilization” had arrived in the Driftless Area.

Just when man-caused erosion actually began, we do not know,

but it was probably about the mid-1800s, soon after the land was

settled. At first wheat was the primary crop, but after 20 to 30 soil-

depleting years, wheat farming gave way to dairying. Soil fertility

probably declined rapidly under the annual wheat cropping

system, and the new cycle of erosion must have started in this era.

That a problem existed at least as early as the 1880s was shown by

an immigrant German farmer, August Kramer, who began strip

cropping on his farm near La Crosse, Wisconsin, about 1885

(Zeasman and Hembre 1963). One of the earliest published

references to erosion in the area came from Professor F . H . King

(1895) of the University of Wisconsin, in a textbook published 10

years after Kramer’s practice began. Speaking of the Driftless

Area, he wrote:

8

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

“The hills, no longer protected by the forest foliage, no longer bound

by the forest roots, are gullied and channeled in all directions. Storm

by storm and year by year the old fields are invaded by gullies, gorges,

ravines, and gulches, ever increasing in width and depth until whole

hillsides are carved away . .

It appears that King was describing the forest land gully, caused

by runoff from overlying fields. Other forms of erosion were

probably going on at the same time: sheet and rill erosion on sloping

fields; gully erosion on sandy river-terrace flatlands; and wind

erosion on sand plain areas. Forty years later, Aldo Leopold also

described (1985) the gullying of forest land:

“Every rain pours off the ridges as from a roof. The ravines of the

grazed slopes are the gutters. In their pastured condition they cannot

resist the abrasion of the silt-laden torrents. Great gashing gullies are

torn out of the hillside. Each gully dumps its load of hillside rocks

upon the fields of the creek bottom, and its muddy waters into the

already swollen streams”.

Although Leopold was writing about just one small watershed

(Coon Creek), the forest land gully was, and still is a common blight

throughout the coulee region. Such gullies are found in practically

every wooded slope that lies below farmland (Figs. 2 and 3). How

extensive they were in the 1930s was shown by a systematic survey

in 1935-1936 (Fig. 4).

Less common, but even more spectacular, than the erosion on the

loess-covered hills were the gullies on level river terraces of sandy,

alluvial soil. Here acres of productive farmland were sometimes

destroyed by gullying during a single storm (Fig. 5). The gully in

Fig. 5 advanced 1,000 feet during one storm in 1922, according to

the owner:

“This storm caught George Vollmer in the back field. On his way

home the team had to swim the new gully with the wagon floating

where the field was only minutes earlier.

“The debris pile at the outlet of the gully had buried highway No. 37

repeatedly. A survey in 1929 revealed that this cone was about 14 feet

thick near the road crossing and averaged over 6 feet over a 40-acre

area. Much of the finer soil material had gone down the river”

(Zeasman and Hembre 1963).

The largest of these river terrace gullies— one of many along the

Buffalo River in southwestern Wisconsin — decimated a 50-acre

1977]

Sartz — Erosion, Driftless Area

9

FIGURE 3. Part of extensive gully system below open land on Coulee

Experimental Forest, La Crosse County, Wisconsin. Note

man holding rod (lower left).

10

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

COULEE!

LEGEND

FOREST

ROAD

DIRT ROAD

STREAM

GULLY

FIGURE 4. Land use and gully survey of part of a township in La Crosse

County, 1935.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

11

area, and ranged from 30 to more than 50 feet deep. Its beginning

dated back to at least 1914. A 1929 survey of the Buffalo

River area showed 170 gullies with a total length of 18 miles, a total

area of 138 acres, and a total volume of 3,247,000 cubic yards in a 75

square-mile area (Bates and Zeasman 1930). Much of the eroded

soil washed into the Buffalo River, and subsequently into the

Mississippi.

The soil loss and sediment gain from sheet and rill erosion were

inestimable. Soil surveys did indicate their magnitude, however.

For example, Muckenhirn and Zeasman reported about 1940 that

more than 60% of the cropland in southwestern Wisconsin had lost at

least one plow depth of soil. This probably reflects water erosion of

loessal silt loam soils on sloping fields for the most part. However,

wind erosion also took its toll on flat fields of the sand plain area, as

shown in a photo taken in 1960 (Fig. 6). A road nearby was protected

from drifting sand by a snow fence.

FIGURE 5. River terrace gully showing drop inlet dam, 1932. Except for

growth of vegetation, the area looked much the same in 1958.

Early Control Efforts

Except for a few innovators like August Kramer, nothing much

was done about the erosion problem until the early 1920s. The U . S .

12

Wisconsin Academy of Scienes, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Soil Conservation Service did not yet exist, and most landowners

had nowhere to turn for help. Then in 1922, 0. R. Zeasman, a

University of Wisconsin extension specialist in land drainage, was

assigned the job of “stopping ditches.” Perhaps it was a sign of the

times that Zeasman was originally moved into the erosion control

field not to save farms or rivers, but to reduce highway maintenance

costs in Buffalo County (Zeasman and Hembre 1963).

One of his early efforts was to stake out diversion terraces, the

first in the fall of 1922. Later, he began building drop inlet gully

control dams; the first large one was started on the Vollmer farm

(Fig. 5) in 1928. In 1932 he laid out a diversion terrace there that

successfully diverted the water away from the gullies. I visited the

farm in 1958 and was told by Mr. Vollmer that construction of the

terrace had taken care of the problem; water no longer ran through

the gully.

In the meantime, the USDA Forest Service was called upon to

help in a “Cooperative Study of Soil Erosion Problems in

Wisconsin.” The cooperative agreement between the Lake States

Forest Experiment Station and the Wisconsin College of

Agriculture was signed June 4, 1929.

A lot happened in the early 1930s. Research at the Upper

Mississippi Valley Soil Conservation Experiment Station, a

cooperative project between the U.S. Department of Agriculture

and the Wisconsin College of Agriculture, began at La Crosse in

1931. A year later, watershed management research by the Lake

States Forest Experiment Station (USDA Forest Service) also

began there. The Nation’s first watershed improvement project was

begun in Coon Creek watershed in 1933, the same year that the

F orest Service proposed public acquisition of some 1.4 million acres

in the bluff lands area as an erosion control purchase unit (nothing

came of this). The Soil Erosion Service was created as an emergency

agency in the Department of Interior in 1933, and was transferred

to the Department of Agriculture as a permanent agency in 1935.

The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was born, and many camps

were engaged in erosion control work in the Driftless Area during

1933-34. Constructing gully control structures was a major activity:

some 900 were built.

Other efforts in the 1920s and 1930s included construction of

various kinds of check dams to protect railroads and highways from

mud-rock flows (Fig. 7). These structures were largely ineffective

because they attempted to cure the symptom rather than the

disease. Some were filled after one storm. Nevertheless, large sums

were spent in this futile effort.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

13

FIGURE 6. Wind erosion on sand plain in north La Crosse County, 1960.

FIGURE 7. Check dams built by Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy

railroad in the 1920s to protect tracks near Genoa, Wisconsin.

14

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The Situation Today

Although yesterday’s gullies still scar the land (there is no

reasonable solution to large holes in the ground), most have at least

stopped growing. This is largely the result of natural causes. The

first big storms probably washed out most of the soil and rock fill.

As the gullies enlarged, the erosion potential diminished. Even if

the most destructive storms were repeated on the same area today,

the potential for further erosion would not be there because some

channels have long since been worn down to bedrock. However, the

gullies have not entirely healed. Some still discharge rocks and

rubble during high runoff storms.

Gradual changes in land use over the years have also speeded the

healing process. With the change from annual grain cropping to

dairying, some cropland went into permanent pasture. When the

tractor replaced the horse, more was saved because tractors cannot

safely negotiate steep slopes. As gullies ate into upland fields the

plow line had to retreat upslope, and old fields soon became new

forests of aspen, birch, and elm. Narrower ridges also went out of

crop production eventually to revert to forest. And, of course, the

increase in conservation farming over the years has also helped.

With all of these changes, less water now flows from upland fields

onto forested slopes.

Even so, new gullies can still form, given the proper combination

of conditions. But now the triggering mechanism is more likely to be

a bulldozer than a plow; and the site, a hillside subdivision instead of

a farm field. However, all may not yet be right down on the farm.

Steep land is still cultivated; so eroding fields and flash floods are

still more than just a memory of bygone days. The Corps of

Engineers is currently seeking support for two separate flood

control projects in the area. And consider, for example, this quote

from a recent newspaper story (Breitbach 1975):

“If a final epitaph were to be written for 1974, it could best be

summed up in one word . . . ‘failure.’ Failure to protect the land from

soil erosion saw the most severe soil losses in the past 25 years.”

One man’s opinion? Perhaps. But coulee streams still run muddy

with every rain. So the current cycle has not yet run its course. Nor

is it likely to — as long as those who work the land continue to ignore

the demands of an uncompromising nature.

1977]

Sartz — Erosion , Driftless Area

15

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bates, C. G., and 0. R. Zeasman. 1930. Soil erosion— a local and national

problem. Univ. Wis. Res. Bull. 99, 100 pp., illus.

Breitbach, Dave. Article in Waukon Republican Standard, Conserv.

Suppl., March 25, 1975.

King, F. H. 1895. The Soil Its Nature, Relations, and Fundamental

Principles of Management. L . H . Bailey, ed. 303 pp., Macmillian and Co.,

New York.

Leopold, Aldo. Coon Valley, an adventure in cooperative conservation. Am.

For. 41:205-208. 1935.

Muckenhirn, R. J., and O . R. Zeasman. [n.d. circa 1940] Soil erosion survey

of Wisconsin. Wis. Univ. Spec. Bull., 24 pp., illus.

Zeasman, O. R., and I. O. Hembre. 1963. A brief history of soil erosion

control in Wisconsin. State Soil and Water Conserv. Comm. In

Cooperation with Univ. of Wis. Ext. Serv., Coll. Agr., Madison, Wis.

WISCONSIN’S FIRST UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF THE ARTS

THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN-MILWAUKEE SCHOOL

OF FINE ARTS: ITS FIRST TWELVE YEARS

Adolph A. Suppan

University Wisconsin —

Milwaukee

In December 1962, the University of Wisconsin Regents

established the state’s first university school of the arts, at The

University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. This is an account of the

creation of that School, its academic innovations, and its first twelve

years of development.

It wil 1 be evident from what follows that a potent stimulus toward

the possibility of such a school came when the University began its

artist-in-residence program during the 1960 summer session.1 On

campus were poet John Ciardi, abstract-expressionist painter Jack

Tworkov, composer Alvin Etler, the Fine Arts Quartet, the New

York Woodwind Quintet, and pianist Frank Glazer. The program

(subsequently given the inclusive title of “Summer Arts Festival”)

was unique, at that time, in several respects. The artists came not

for a one-day visit, but to teach courses, lecture or perform, and hold

conversations with students, faculty, and public. In round-table

discussions between visiting artists and the faculty, the arts were

examined in relation to one another under such topics as: “The

Artist and the Critic,” “Government Subsidy for the Arts,” “The

Artist and the Public: A Communications Gap?,” and “The Artist in

the University.” At concert “previews” and lecture-demonstrations,

Mozart and Beethoven, as well as Bartok and Schonberg, were

explained and discussed. A spirit of aesthetic excitement prevailed

for many weeks, as the audiences realized that the arts together had

more impact than the arts individually.

The success of this, and the 1961 summer program relating the

arts in teaching and performance, soon posed an obvious question

for the University. Why should the arts come together only during

the summer session?

Early in 1962, Chancellor J. Martin Klotsche created the Ad Hoc

UWM Committee to Consider the Future of The Arts . The

Committee, representing a broad range of the arts and art related

administrators, included Professors Lester E. Fuhrmann

16

1977]

Suppan— School of the Arts, UW-Mil

17

(Theatre), Frank M, Himmelmann (Education), Frederick I. Olson

(Extension), Milton H. Rusch (Music), Robert Schellin (Art), and

Adolph A. Suppan, Chairman (Director, Summer Session).

This committee wrote a document which, for those years,

displayed significant foresight relating to the situation of the arts in

most of the nation's universities. The essential recommendations

were:

PROPOSAL FOR A UNIFIED FINE ARTS

PROGRAM AT UWM

OBJECTIVES

1. To provide a continous and effective relationship between UWM departments

related to the fine arts area

2. To enable these departments to coordinate their resources; to encourage

generally in the university a recognition of the value of the disciplines inherent

in the arts; and to intensify departmental offerings in the fine arts to both the

students and the community

3. To make it possible for students to major in a fine arts curriculum which cuts

across departmental boundries; permits students to see the arts in their natural

relationship to one another; and allows concentration upon such areas as

aesthetics, arts history, cultural development, and art in society

4. To permit within the professional training of each student majoring in the arts a

maximum intensity of study and experience in his area

5. To centralize lines of communication between the total university arts program

and civic organizations working in the arts

6. To coordinate programs in the arts (music, theatre, the dance, and the visual

arts) so that each year a calender of arts activities can be printed in advance,

providing the community with a total awareness of the varied activities and

wide range of the arts in UWM.

RECOMMENDATIONS

1. The university should establish a separate division of fine arts with an

administrative head directly responsible to the Provost [now Chancellor]. This

division would include the departments of art, art history, theatre, music, and

the dance. The present budgets of these departments (or what are now areas

within departments, such as theatre and dance) would be incorporated into the

total budget of the division.

2. The fine arts unit would include among its primary functions the objectives

given above, and would implement them as soon as is possible.

The recommendations, approved by Chancellor Klotsche and the

relevant departments and deans, were submitted to the University

of Wisconsin administration in Madison. Action on the document

came in the fall of 1962 when the new president of the University,

18

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Fred Harvey Harrington, also approved it and relayed it to the

University Regents. In December 1962, the Regents created a

School of Fine Arts for The University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and

appointed Adolph A. Suppan as its first dean.2

Intense planning by faculty and administration began; only eight

months remained before the new School was to open. The deans and

faculties involved had to consider the mechanics of bringing

existing departments and new academic areas together. Dean

Joseph G. Baier of the College of Letters and Science played an

important role in effecting a smooth transition for Music (already a

department) and Theatre Arts (three faculty members in the

Speech Department). At the School of Education, the Art

Department (like Music, already possessed of an excellent reputa¬

tion in the state) was also involved in the move. The existing dance

courses were offered by the Department of Women’s Physical

Education; that department preferred to retain the one faculty

member involved and, therefore, an entirely new dance faculty had

to be appointed.

A Faculty Planning Committee was formed to design a general

curriculum for the new School — admission details, course re¬

quirements, and revised departmental programs. The Committee’s

recommendations were resourceful and innovative. Besides the

four departmental programs — Art, Dance, Music, and Theatre

Arts3— a fifth unique program was added: Inter-Arts. A student

choosing to become a generalist in the arts could get a degree by

working in any three of the four departments; e.g. 24-credit with

“mini-majors” in Music, Theatre Arts, and Dance. This degree

could form a background for fields such as arts administration, arts

history, concert hall management, or arts journalism.

A second feature of the proposed new curriculum was a

requirement that every student, no matter which of the five new

majors he or she chose, should take two year-long survey courses:

Arts and Mankind in the freshman year and The Arts: Theory and

Criticism in the senior year. These wide-ranging courses, taught by

a team of instructors from the entire arts faculty, would, in the first

year of the students’ academic experience, acclimate them to art

disciplines other than their own and, in the fourth year, give them

an overall view of critical principles and practices relating to all the

arts, and thus broaden their aesthetic approaches. These classes

would, we hoped, liberate the students from the too-concentrated,

conventional arts major. As far as we knew, such courses were not

offered in any other institution.

1977]

Suppan— School of the Arts, UW-Mil

19

The Committee also was aware of current criticism that many

private conservatory programs in music, art, theatre or dance

neglected the students’ liberal arts education. The new curriculum

required 30 credits in the humanities and sciences, without

sacrificing an adequate credit load in the major discipline.

In summary, the Committee proposed an arts education of

rigorous professional competence, yet eschewed over-specialization

by creating a balance with general education and an introduction to

the other arts.

The labors of the Committee (its members always in consultation

with colleagues in their various departments) were rewarded when,

on March 28, 1963, the arts faculty approved the new curriculum.

On April 11, the all-University faculty gave a unanimous go-ahead

to the new School. Similar approval of the new curriculum by the

University administration and Regents quickly followed. In a few

months, the first university college of the arts in Wisconsin was

ready to face its next challenge: its reception by students and the

public.

First-semester registration, in September 1963, exceeded

predictions. Enrollment in arts majors increased from 1,011 to

1,248—23 percent overall. Class registration rose from 6,798 to

7,579—12 percent, compared with an all University increase of 9

percent.

During that first year and the next, these developments in the

academic progress of the School took place:

(1) Recognition of the Music Department by the two leading national

accreditation systems: the National Association of Schools of Music and

the National Council for Teacher Accreditation. These were significant

not only for their stamp of approval for an already reputable

department, but because there had been some faculty concern that the

department might lose stature by joining an arts school with a new

curriculum.

(2) The appointment of the internationally-famous Fine Arts Quartet to

full-time faculty status with tenure. There were some resident quartets

in other universities but, to our knowledge, none had ever been given

tenure as a group. The acknowledged excellence of the Quartet also

signalled to the community the standard of quality the new School

would strive for in its appointments.

(3) New graduate programs in Art and Music: three Master of Music

degrees (Applied Music, Conducting, Music History and Literature): a

Master of Fine Arts degree, offered parallel to the existing degrees of

Master of Science in Art, and Master of Science in Art Education.

20

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

(4) A four-year curriculum and an Education major in Theatre Arts.

(5) A four-year professional major program in the new Department of

Dance.

(6) Revision of the Art Department’s undergraduate program, with eight

professional areas of specialization.

During subsequent years (1965-67) enrollment increase con¬

tinued , exceeding all-University averages; the full-time faculty had

now increased from 44 to 70. And, because of the burgeoning

student population, a desperate need for additional classroom and

office space developed. Only the Music Department was adequately

housed; it had acquired, a few years before the formation of the

School of Fine Arts, an efficient new building with an excellent

recital hall. The Art Department was still in cramped quarters at

the north end of old Mitchell Hall’s third floor; dance and theatre

classes were also scheduled in that building; music, theatre, and

dance performances took place in Mitchell’s “auditorium,” original¬

ly designed for lectures and debates. It had a cramped stage which

served only minimally for theatre purposes; also rows of uncomfor¬

table, joined, wooden seats were movable, to make room for campus

dances. The new School, with its many students, was suffering one

of the most ancient of institutional diseases— lack of space.

In the fall of 1966, Chancellor Klotsche announced the welcome

news that the Regents had approved a new Fine Arts Center for the

University. A Faculty Planning Committee was immediately

appointed to advise the state architects and engineers on the three-

building complex (to adjoin the existent Music Building). We

wanted a plan that would include classrooms, offices, studios,

galleries, student recreation space, and a multi-purpose theatre.

Though we wanted a center that would offer adequate performance

and exhibition space, we hoped it could also be an appropriate

environment for the artist/ teachers and their students.

As indicated before, the School had a two-fold academic purpose:

to provide professional and general training in the arts, and at the

same time to alert students to the inter-relationship of the arts. We

therefore asked the architects to design a quadrangle which would

coordinate the arts in a spatial, as well as academic, continuum.

They accomplished this with an inter-flow between the units, using

covered walks and adjoining courtyards; provision was also made

for a number of arts activities in each of the buildings.

A specific example of how this “inter-flow” principle was

considered for every aspect of the Center can be seen in the Planning

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts, UW-Mil

21

Committee’s objection to the architects’ orginal plan for the

galleries, which were to be in a squat, one-story structure, separated

from the other buildings. We complained that this made them

merely another museum, isolated from the ebb and flow of people on

the campus. We suggested that the galleries be situated on the

second floor of the Theatre Building (its first-floor lobby was also a

concourse) where students, in the daytime, and the public,

attending evening events, would be attracted to the painting,

sculpture, and crafts exhibitions. The architects not only agreed,

but put floor-to-ceiling gallery windows in the upper well of the

theatre lobby. Day and night, many of the structures and colors of

artworks could be seen from below— a continuing display of

ongoing attractions in the visual arts.

A distinctive feature of the theatre itself was its flexibility in

regard to both thrust- and proscenium-staging. Normally the

theatre, with thrust-stage, would seat 550 people. Sharp-rise

seating around three sides of the stage would make it possible for

every member of the audience— even those sitting in the eleventh

and last row — to have a clear and close view of the performances.

Experts were also consulted to provide a variety of different

acoustical situations to suit whatever would be staged. The theatre

would not be limited to plays, but would be used for orchestral and

choral concerts, recitals, lecture-demonstrations, and dance con¬

certs as well. Hydraulic-electric devices would make it possible to

lower the entire thrust-stage so that it disappeared, transforming

the theatre into a 600-seat proscenium-type interior. Portions of the

floor could also be lowered to form an orchestra pit for musical

comedies and certain types of dance performances. Other features

of the Theatre Building included a lower-level rehearsal room with

a stage of the exact measurements of the thrust-stage, dance

studios, and numerous shops for scenery, costuming, and stage

design.

The Art Building had studios and classrooms adapted for every

art activity: ceramics, sculpture, graphic arts, painting,

photography, film, design, weaving. Between the Art Building and

the Theatre was a sculpture court which served as both an outdoor

working area (there was direct access to it from the interior studios)

and an exhibition space.

Although the 300-seat Recital Hall was conceived mainly for

chamber music, it also was flexible in its uses; and the Lecture-

auditorium would serve equally well for film showings, theatre

workshop productions, and lectures.

22

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

In the 1960s (the Fine Arts Center was completed in 1968), some

cultural historians had complained that, although support for the

arts was increasing, much of this manifested itself in a national

“edifice complex”— that more money was being poured into

hundreds of arts halls and centers than into badly-needed support

for artists and arts organizations themselves. Our Fine Arts Center

defied such a trend. More than a cluster of performance and

exhibition spaces, it provided learning and studio space for 900 Fine

Arts majors and 75 faculty members, and was a locus for over 150

arts events annually. It offered, because of its many resources, the

widest possible range in the arts: from the classic to the

contemporary, from the traditional to the experimental and the

challenging. The arts could flourish here, free from the restraints

and limitations of box-office commercialism. In addition, with

opening of this Center, metropolitan Milwaukee had its first multi¬

purpose performing arts building complex.

The Center, of course, also became the home of the Summer Arts

Festival, which had continued and expanded each year. The

selection process for the artists-in-residence began during the

academic year, when faculty committees, departmental chairper¬

sons, and administrators wrote letters, made phone calls, and

conducted interviews. The artists were chosen not only for their

reputation, but for their ability to be articulate and interested

teachers.

Thus, when summer arrived, students, faculty and the communi¬

ty were offered the rich experiences of seeing, hearing, and meeting

great creative personalities from the arts world beyond the campus.

There was stimulation and controversy, and sometimes even shock,

in observing and talking with such gifted people as composers Leon

Kirchner and Milton Babbitt; painters Carl Holty and Lester

Johnson; poets James Dickey and Kenneth Rexroth; dancers Ruth

Currier and Lucas Hoving; musicans Sylvia Marlowe and Leon

Fleisher; and theatre directors Alan Schneider and Gene Frankel.

These — and many others — gave all of us fresh, invigorating ideas

about the arts. Altogether, up to 1974, more than 60 artists-in-

residence came to the campus.

The Arts Festival also included chamber music, modern dance,

ballet, theatre, painting/sculpture/crafts exhibitions and ex¬

perimental film series. There were concerts by a F estival Orchestra

including the members of the Fine Arts Quartet, the New York

Woodwind Quintet (and later our own Woodwind Arts Quintet),

musicians from the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra (and its

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts, UW-Mil

23

predecessors), music faculty, and selected students. Among the

conductors were Thor Johnson, Robert Whitney and Leonard

Sorkin.

As a logical extension of the successful summer program, artists-

in-residence were now appointed during the academic year as well.

The four Fine Arts departments (and in the case of poets, the

English Department cooperating) invited artists to teach, perform,

lecture and conduct workshops.

Enrollments, as well as programs, continued to grow; and, as

student involvement in university policies increased nationally, the

School sought more student advice in academic decisions. In 1968, a

Student Advisory Committee to the Dean was formed; members

(representing their organizations in the various departments) were

recommended by departmental chairpersons. The Committee met

every two months; problems, issues, and proposals were frankly

(and, if requested, confidentially) discussed; and if so directed by

the students recommendations were relayed to the departments.

The departments also created means by which students could

communicate their opinions directly.

With the new quadrangle of buildings, an energetic faculty, and a

steadily increasing enrollment, the School had become not only a

respected academic unit, but a magnetic force for the arts in the

Milwaukee area. The Milwaukee Sentinel described it as a “haven of

the arts,” but our goals went beyond that. In the 1960s the

University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee was one of the pioneering

urban institutions of its kind in the nation. We of the School of Fine

Arts felt we had a mission, a major commitment to our city. We

therefore began to offer both cooperation and initiative to the urban

sector, wherever requested or needed. Major projects developed by

us,4 always in consultation and participation with citizen groups,

were:

The People’s Theatre

Formed in 1968 by G. L. Wallace, who had been appointed Inner City

Arts Consultant to the Dean, this was the city’s first black repertory

group. Despite very limited resources, the company quickly won the

respect of the community and has enjoyed critical and public

approval.

The University Ballet

This, the city’s first continuing ballet ensemble, was organized in 1966

with the participation of faculty and students in the Departments of

24

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Dance, Music, and Theatre Arts. The latter two departments

contributed their resources for staging, design, and a good orchestra.

The Milwaukee Ballet Company

In the fall of 1969 we were asked if the School would co-sponsor an

attempt to found a repertory ballet for Milwaukee. A few months

later, in response to invitations sent out by the School, a group of about

50 ballet enthusiasts met on campus to organize support for such a

group. The School provided rehearsal and performance space for a

number of years; the organization also got advice and participation

from the faculty and students of the Dance Department.

Symphony-on-Campus

For many years the Milwaukee Symphony was invited annually to be

“in residence” for a week on campus. Daily rehearsals in the Fine Arts

Theatre were open to students and public; many thereby had their

first opportunity to attend a symphony rehearsal. The orchestra

included faculty composers’ works in either “reading sessions” or in

concert; and the visit would culminate in a free evening program.

The Community Theatre Institute

The Theatre Arts Department, hoping for a closer relationship with

many community theatres in the area, inaugurated an informal

community theatre organization which later evolved into what is now

a similar state group.

The Preparatory Arts Division

With the realization that in the arts, especially in dance, training must

begin before college age, University Extension Arts, in cooperation

with the School of Fine Arts, began offering pre-college and children’s

classes in dance, theatre, and visual arts. This program has continued

to enroll hundreds of students annually.

Downtown Concerts

Co-sponsored with the First Wisconsin National Bank, the Fine Arts

Quartet, Woodwind Arts Quintet, and other artist/faculty from the

Music Department gave a series of concerts in Vogel Hall (Performing

Arts Center) every spring.

Art Exhibitions

The Department of Art, which got its first full-time gallery director in

1963, mounted literally hundreds of exhibitions in the years 1963-74.

National invitational exhibitions included Paintings, and Sculpture,

’64; the “10/10” Invitational Photography Exhibition; National Crafts

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts , UW-Mil

25

Exhibition; National Print Exhibition; and “Mice that Roar,”

National Political Cartoon Exhibition. Also, the department’s own

faculty and student exhibitions have made the Fine Arts Galleries a

continuous showcase of significant and exciting traditional and

contemporary art every month of the year.

Inner City Film Workshop

This workshop provided a range of activities and experiences for

economically disadvantaged inner-city youth through the medium of

photography. The age range was from 10-18. The younger people

worked with art and animated films, and the older youth dealt with

live-action films and still photography.

The above programs, mentioned to illustrate the School’s outreach

in the urban community, constituted only some of the projects

developed by the departments.

In theatre, at least five classical and contemporary plays received

major productions annually; the small studio theatre was used for

student and experimental plays. The University Players won

national honors from the American College Theatre Festival for a

production staged in Washington D. C. at Kennedy Center.

In music, in addition to the traditional band, symphony orchestra,

and choral concerts, numerous faculty and student recitals and

operas were presented; baroque and contemporary ensembles were

developed. A “Composers’ Showcase” series with works by music

faculty and students was instituted.

In dance, faculty and student concerts were presented each

semester; and companies of international fame— those of Jose

Limon, Erick Hawkins, and others— were brought to the campus

for from one to three weeks, for teaching, workshops, and

performance.

By the time the School celebrated its tenth birthday ( 1973), it had

demonstrated in many ways the advantages of combining the arts

under one academic roof. The North Central Association of Colleges

and Universities described it as follows:

Perhaps this is the most impressive example of how the UWM has

been able to achieve high quality by concentrating its resources.

Unlike its parent campus the Milwaukee campus has been able to

bring together all creative performers in the arts into one School

housed in a single complex, the Fine Arts Center . . . Clearly, from all

respects, this is one of the most distinguished and successful efforts of

the University!

26

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

In enrollment (majors), the School was now among the first 10 of

100 or more similar schools in the nation. Some of its faculty had

achieved international recognition.

The short history of the School also showed that such an academic

structure could nurture a climate of creativity. New student plays

were continually being produced; original faculty and student

choreography was being presented. Of the 147 exhibitors in the

1971 Wisconsin Designer-Craftsmen Exhibition, 47 were faculty,

students, or former students of our Art Department. They received

10 of the 22 awards of the exhibition. Three faculty composers won

national recognition; their works and their students’ works were

performed on campus by faculty and student ensembles.

Although some problems remained, such as the prevalent (and

national) disproportion in salaries between artist-faculty and other

university faculty, and the need for additional classroom and

performance space, solutions were gradually being found. The

auditorium of Engelman Hall, although being renovated for the

School of Architecture, was equipped for some stage and concert

presentations. And, in the spring of 1974, planning was begun for an

extensive renovation of Mitchell Hall, with large areas assigned to

the School. In May of that year, the University Faculty Senate

approved plans for a needed fifth department— Film Arts. And a

new Master of Performing Arts degree was proposed and approved

by our faculty and the University administration, for the next

biennium.

In character with the history of the State of Wisconsin itself, a

history distingushed by innovation and progress in both social and

educational areas, the School of Fine Arts at UWM continued in its

pioneering directions. It demonstrated pragmatically the advan¬

tages of an “alliance” between the arts; that, indeed, such

cooperation was a logical development in a century where art forms

had become more related than ever before. It also demonstrated

that a school of the arts can greatly strengthen the arts in a

metropolitan area. It can use its human and technical resources to

reveal the value and profundity of the old, and at the same time the

excitement and necessity of the new.

Finally, if any single word describes the spirit of this School, it is

“interflow.” F rom the earliest manifestation of cooperation between

departments and visiting summer artists, through the subsequent

formation and development of the School, there was an interflow of

goodwill and mutual effort between administration and faculty,

faculty and students, creators and performers. The physical

1977]

Suppan — School of the Arts , UW-Mil

27

proximity, the common curriculum, the innovative programs made

this interflow natural, continual and rewarding for all.

NOTATIONS

1. Artists-in-residence had come to the campus as early as 1955 for the

Summer Evenings of Music series; however, they obviously represented

only one art form.

2. Subsequently, similar schools of the arts have been formed at UW-

Whitewater, UW-Stevens Point, and UW-Superior of the University of

Wisconsin System. 3. The Art History Department elected not to join the

new School.

4. The People's Theatre , Preparatory Arts Division, and the Inner City

Film Workshop were implemented with the invaluable cooperation and

assistance of the University Extension Arts, which also inaugurated many

workshops with the Department of Music.

NEW DEAL WORK PROJECTS AT

THE MILWAUKEE PUBLIC LIBRARY

Daniel F. Ring

Oakland University ,

Roch ester, M i ch iga ) i

“Give a man a dole and you save his body and destroy his spirit;

give him a job and pay him an assured wage and you save both the

body and the spirit/’1 This statement by Harry Hopkins reflects the

philosophy of the New Deal, its creator Franklin D. Roosevelt and

like-minded social thinkers such as Homer Folks. Thus, an

important purpose of the many work-relief bureaus was to

“substitute work for relief”2 so as to restore feelings of self-esteem to

the unemployed.

Some authorities would contend that the unprecedented interven¬

tion of the Federal government caused a revolution in the State-

Federal relationships, not to mention waste and inefficiency, which

is summed up in the word “boondoggling.” The New Deal did effect

a revolution in the nature of the government and there was

undoubtedly a great deal of waste and inefficiency. But to

emphasize only these negative aspects would seriously distort the

picture. In seeking to save the capitalistic system from collapse, the

New Deal made unstinted efforts to salvage human resources.

Many people today are familiar with the New Deal’s ac¬

complishments through an awareness of its physical out¬

croppings— the dams, airports and parks that dot America’s

landscape. But the New Deal also played a sizeable role in fostering

cultural and scholarly programs which became known as “white

collar” jobs because they provided work to such unemployed

professionals as musicians, artists, and clerks. This article will

discuss the origins, nature and results of the “white collar”

enterprises of the Civilian Works Authority (C.W.A.), the Federal

Emergency Relief Administration (F.E.R.A.) and the Works

Projects Administration (W.P.A.) which were administered

through the Milwaukee Public Library.

From 1933 until 1942, the Milwaukee Public Library and the

New Deal were closely linked. Many New Deal programs were of

marginal significance, making no lasting impact on the Library

and contributing nothing of consequence to the cultural heritage of

the community. Among these was the National Industrial Recovery

Act or the N.R.A., as its administration came to be called. The

28

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

29

N.R.A. was an attempt at industrial self-regulation coupled with a

Federal works program. But as it affected the Library, N.R.A.

activity was confined to the regulation of hours in the bindery and

adherence to certain purchasing policies and guidelines.3 By

themselves these agreements were unimportant. Yet, in another

respect, they signalled a readiness on the part of the Library to enter

cooperative undertakings with the Federal government.

Of greater consequence were the varied programs of the C.W.A.

and the F.E.R.A. They ranged from the mundane though necessary

repair and painting of branch and main libraries to artistic and

bibliographic projects such as the reorganization of the card catalog

and the restoration of books. These latter projects involved the

recopying of 287,500 cards and their redistribution throughout the

catalog, and the repair of 17,840 books. These C.W.A. undertakings

gave employment to forty-eight persons including six librarians

and forty- two clerk typists.4 Unfortunately, the task was never

completed, possibly due to a shortage of funds but more likely

because the expenditure of money on library programs per se was

not yet encouraged.5 “Blue collar” maintenance work received

higher priority. Nonetheless, the work that was completed was

considered an important contribution.6 Moreover, the catalog

reorganization was significant in that it represented a departure

from the typical roof repair projects which had characterized so

many C.W.A. library activities.7 A valuable precedent was thus

created for the more expansive white collar programs of the

F.E.R.A. and later the W.P.A.

One such white collar undertaking was an F.E.R.A. music

project. The plan entailed the copying and duplication of “good

music” in manuscript form. (Fig. 1). In all, 755 selections were

completed on master sheets and 67,256 sheets were dittoed.8

Selection was made on the basis of demand and also on the advice of

recognized musicians in the city, among them Herman Smith,

supervisor of music in the Milwaukee Public Schools, and Milton

Rusch of the Milwaukee State Teachers College.9 In addition to

employing twenty to thirty jobless musicians, the plan enabled the

Library’s Art and Music Room to meet a borrower demand beyond

the capacity of normal library appropriations.10 The project

resulted in what was described as a “splendid collection” that was

made available to the general public and also to small churches for

use on Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. It was thought that if the

work were continued, it would, in the words of library director

Mathew S. Dudgeon, “eventuate in the Milwaukee Library having

30

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

FIGURE 1. Music copying under W.E.R.A. Project 40-F5-460.

the finest collection of good music in any library in the country.”11

While a “strict constructionist” might ponder the constitutionality

of these displays of government “aid” to religious bodies, none could

question the pragmatism of the undertaking. It helped the Library

to meet a public need; it put unemployed musicians back to work;

and it was the first successful attempt at employing the white collar

worker within the Library.

Many C.W.A. and F.E.R.A. projects were haphazardly planned,

inadequately funded, or faced with bureaucratic impediments.

This was particularly true of the C.W.A. and applied not only to the

reorganization of the card catalog, and to book repairs but to “blue

collar” programs as well.12 The Library also attempted to use

F.E.R.A. funds to finish repair jobs which had not been completed

by the C.W.A.13 One can surmise that the C.W.A., in providing

relief, had embarked upon a murky area in Federal-local

relationships, undefined and unprecedented. Consequently,

programs such as the catalog reorganization were eliminated

because of uncertainties as to whether Federal funds could be used

solely for library-related work. Moreover, the C.W.A. was a short

term effort of only five months. The above limitations were not

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work, Library

31

peculiar to the Milwaukee Public Library but were characteristic

of most C.W.A. and F.E.R.A. programs throughout the country.

Hiring restrictions, for example, limited library work almost

exclusively to “blue collar” projects.14

On the other hand, both the C.W.A. and the F.E.R.A. allowed the

Library to satisfy patron demands which would have been

impossible with the Library’s restricted financial resources. It is

interesting to note that such library projects did not constitute

“made work”, as even the maintenance jobs were long overdue, or,

like the catalog reorganization, had been planned years in advance.

They did not constitute “boondoggling” as that word is generally

understood.

The W.P.A., the third New Deal bureaucracy to operate within

the Library, was the most successful in terms of duration, lasting

contributions and sheer variety of programs. Undoubtedly much of

the W.P.A. success in the Milwaukee Public Library can be

attributed to the fact that both local and Federal officials learned a

great deal from their past mistakes.15 There was not the same pell-

mell rush to put people to work as was typical of other works

programs. Rather, the W.P.A. possessed what one writer has called

a “unity of purpose” and a “continuity of operation”16 which lent a

characteristic stability to all of its undertakings.

Initially, W.P.A. programs were characterized by the stock-in-

trade manual labor projects. But they were important. Consider, for

example, the repair of books. During 1935-1936 alone 422,841 books

were renovated17 and tens of thousands more in the years following.

(Fig. 2). In fact, the enormity of the book binding project was such

that Dudgeon noted that he knew of no bindery prepared to do that

amount of work.18 In any case, the limited city budget which had

already reduced Library expenditures by twenty-five per cent

simply would not allow for sending books out for repair.19 The

binding project takes on an added significance, when it is

considered that thousands of volumes were in “desperately bad

condition” and some collections near collapse.20 To prevent

deterioration, W.P.A. workers shellacked and varnished the covers

of all new books and reinforced their bindings, thereby doubling the

books’ durability. Similar procedures were applied to older books.

Without this conservation policy, the library might have ex¬

perienced a net loss of over 100,000 volumes.21 Richard Krug, who

succeeded Dudgeon in 1941, fully appreciated the W.P.A.’s

contribution when he wrote to a W.P.A. supervisor, “I cannot

emphasize too strongly the importance of the W.P.A. menders and

32

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 2. Book mending under Project 7787.

book repairers to the library,” further noting that the the institution

could not have assumed such a burden by itself.22 The total Federal

contribution to the project came to $877,475, which was really a

small price considering what was gained.23

As the W.P.A. gained momentum, it branched out into areas

which suggested imagination and special concern for the needs of

artists, businessmen, and scholars. White collar work became

dominant and questions of whether money could be used for library

work per se were no longer raised. Included were bibliographic and

indexing undertakings of major proportions: the indexing of the

federal censuses for 1860 and 1870, a Union List of Serials, and the

Milwaukee Sentinel Newspaper Index.

The census indices were important for several reasons: They

could be used to establish eligibility for citizenship and for pensions.

They were also of historical value at the State Historical Society of

Wisconsin. Undoubtedly, they aided many genealogists doing

research in family history. Hitherto it had been difficult and time

consuming, if not impossible, to locate the name of a forebear

because names were entered in the order in which the census taker

visited the homes. But the 70,000 index cards which the project

created were alphabetically arranged with a citation to the volume

and page where the name could be found.24 Almost forty years after

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

33

its creation, the census indices located in the Local History Room of

the Milwaukee Public Library remain an important research tool,

both for the amateur genealogist and especially for the Milwaukee

County Genealogical Society.

Unquestionably the most significant W.P.A. venture in the

Milwaukee Public Library was the Milwaukee Sentinel Newspaper

Index, jointly sponsored by the Library, the Milwaukee State

Teachers College, and the Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors.

It was hoped that the Index would “supply an unbroken chain of

information from the earliest days to the present day.”25 The

Milwaukee Sentinel was chosen both because it was the earliest

newspaper in circulation and because it provided the best

continuity and had the largest number of issues available.

Newspaper indexing was a common W.P.A. library project

throughout the United States. The Cleveland Public Library had its

Annals of Cleveland . But the Sentinel Index was unique in that all

information about a person or subject appeared under one entry and

thus saved the researcher the bother of having to consult a number

of volumes, as in the Annals. Like the Annals , the Sentinel Index

was never completed. Only the years 1837-1879 were finished. The

library was left holding over 750,000 cards, 70,000 feet of

microfilm, and several thousand unfinished entries.26 Although

incomplete, the Index stands at the pinnacle of W.P.A.

achievements. It remains today as a major aid for the historian, the

student and the genealogist doing research on Milwaukee and

Wisconsin.27

The Union List of Periodicals was the last link in the triad of

bibliographic projects. The plan was a cooperative undertaking of

the Municipal Reference Library in City Hall, the Milwaukee

Public Library, and the Milwaukee chapter of the Special Libraries

Association. The Reference Room of the Milwaukee Public Library

played an important role in assembling and coordinating the list.

The purpose of the Union List was to increase bibliographic access

to expensive business magazines, proceedings, and other

periodicals which were owned by several business libraries in the

city and by the Milwaukee Public Library. This could be done by

compiling a list of libraries that held certain titles. It was felt that

the List would have the dual advantage of pooling resources but

allow the libraries to retain their own identities. The outcome of the

project, a 250 page book which gave the libraries access to 5,000

reference sources, was indeed a marked improvement from the

previous average of 44 magazines in each library.28 Aside from its

34

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

obvious value of broadening the base of what were frequently very

specialized publications, the Union List demonstrated the

innovative ways in which the W.P.A. and its co-sponsors were able

to respond to the needs of Milwaukee’s businesses and industrial

economy.

A second major division of white collar work consisted of a variety

of art and music programs, from the preparation of music scores to

live performances. The library’s role rested upon its willingness to

be sole sponsor as well as to cooperate with other agencies. For

example, W.P.A. bands gave live performances at the Library.29

The significance of these concerts should not be overlooked as they

undoubtedly served to relieve some mental anxieties, furthered

social contacts and perhaps helped people temporarily to forget

their economic plights.

Copying of music was another program carried out by the

Federal Music Project. The plan was essentially a continuation of

the W.E.R.A. project noted earlier but far more extensive in that it

attempted to raise the cultural level of the community. For

example, it provided for the teaching of music to under-privileged

groups and for lectures, forums and panel discussions on “music as

an art and as a social agency”.30 The copying itself was a success both

locally and nationally. Worked out by the Library’s capable

director, M. S. Dudgeon, it employed up to sixty eight musicians

who copied scores on which the copyrights had expired. Some of the

scores were rare and old compositions lent to the library by local

musicians who had extensive musical libraries.31 Exact figures as to

how many pieces were copied, vary and were admittedly difficult to

tabulate. But one report noted that from 322 selections there were

made 5,999 masters and 42,386 dittos.32 The scores were kept in the

library and lent to the public on the same basis as library books.

From 1939-1941, over 2900 selections were circulated.33 That the

music attained the highest standards of excellence is evidenced by

the fact that Bach’s Chorales were used by the Music Educators

National Conference and the State Teachers Convention.34

Moreover, the project attracted attention from other parts of the

Midwest. Librarians came from Ohio, Michigan and Indiana to

observe what was being done in the Library.35

The music copying project was important because of the quality

of the work, the people it employed, and the cultural heritage it

created for the Library. Almost thirty years after its completion,

Richard Krug could still affirm that the W.P.A. orchestration

copying project was “a valuable part of the library’s music

collection.”36

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work, Library

35

Library exhibits on practical how-to-do-it skills such as etchings,

woodcuts, lithography, and air brush art were yet other facets of

W.P.A. “art” work.37 These exhibits were important because they

furnished employment and because they indicated a reluctance to

give narrow interpretations to the idea of art. Once again, the

pragmatic and innovative character of the New Deal carried the

day.

W.P.A. , like many New Deal recovery and reform agencies, fell

victim to World War II. Yet it is interesting to note the degree to

which the onset of war shaped the character of some later W.P.A.

programs. As war clouds hovered over Europe, America’s munition

plants began to tool up as the “arsenal of democracy.” F.D.R.’s

image as “Dr. New Deal” was replaced with “Dr. Win-the-War.”

Similarly, the W.P.A. played important roles in national defense

both in the construction of war material and in serving as an

information source, once America entered the conflict. Playing a

part in the latter capacity was the War Information Center of the

Milwaukee Public Library.

The War Information Center was established by the Library in

conjunction with the W.P.A. to deal with a variety of war-related

questions which “cut across the normal divisions of library work.”38

Its functions were threefold: to supply information about the war’s

progress on both home and fighting fronts; to keep records of

Milwaukee’s part in the war effort; and to cooperate with the

Victory Book Campaign.39

These activities were influenced by the trends of the war. In the

initial stages of the conflict, the thrust of the Center was toward

civilian defense. Thus, it maintained lists of air raid wardens in

Milwaukee County, indexed a twelve volume set of Milwaukeeans

who had served in World War I, clipped newspapers for

information related to the city’s war efforts, and maintained index

cards on Milwaukee County men and women in the service.40 As

more and more Americans faced the prospects of induction, as the

public wanted to know about areas in which their countrymen were

fighting, or the names of important allied and axis military

personnel, the center’s work gravitated toward the military

aspects.41

When one views the multitude of tasks to which the War

Information Center addressed itself, it is easy to understand the

disappointment that followed the closing of the Center, a victim of

the W.P.A. ’s dissolution in 1942. The quality of its contributions is

the more surprising in that it was staffed by fourteen people with

36

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

little or no library experience.42 So successful was the Center that it

received national recognition from the National War Office of

Civilian Defense and the American Library Association for its

community activities.43 The Board of Trustees made a concerted

effort to save the Center by operating it under Library auspices

because of its informational services and because it was the only

department in the county that kept a systematic record of

Milwaukee’s role in the war.44 But these efforts came to nothing.

Support within the Board of Estimates was lukewarm at best.45

With the closing of the Center, the work of the New Deal in the

Library came to an end. Its overall accomplishments were

important both then and now. Its services permitted the Library to

fulfill some normal obligations to the public which had been

curtailed by depression budgets, and some of the projects, notably

the Sentinel Index, went far beyond the normal expectations of

library service. Some of the W.P.A. work survives to this day. The

Local History Room has thousands of war related photographs left

from the War Information Center; the census indices are a

continuing boon to genealogical workers; and one could scarcely

imagine not using the Sentinel Index for research on Milwaukee

and State history prior to 1879.

Surprisingly, all of these achievements were carried out with an

absence of serious friction. There were no fights over “turf,” as it

were, between W.P.A. and library personnel. Rather the

relationship was one of “unusual cooperation.”46 Perhaps this

harmony can be attributed to the leadership provided by the city

librarians, Matthew Dudgeon and Richard Krug. Both men had

excellent administrative backgrounds which created a “can-do”

atmosphere.47 Interestingly enough, both had law degrees and no

formal training in librarianship. One should also consider that the

caliber of W.P.A. workers assigned to library projects was

uniformly high. The depression had created a desperate

employment situation which encouraged in many a desire for work

and productivity. This positive outlook toward the W.P.A. projects

was shared by Milwaukeeans in general. As one former W.P.A.

supervisor has commented, “people wanted to work.”48

It is also worth noting that library participation in the New Deal

was comprehensive in scope and not limited to one small or

traditional aspect of library operations. This is best illustrated by

pointing to some of the projects which never materialized. Among

them were plans for a separate Sports Room; a Collection of F oreign

Language Publications which would have operated like a union list;

1977]

Ring— New Deal Work, Library

37

and especially, a Circulation Survey Project which would have

attempted to determine precisely how many people used the library

and when.49 No evidence remains as to why these plans were never

carried out. Yet they strongly indicate that everything within the

library from circulation to technical operations was thoroughly

appraised so as to improve services to all clients.

The increasing contributions of the C.W.A., F.E.R.A. and the

W.P.A. to the Library take on a final significance, when one

compares Federal expenditures for white collar projects in the

Library with those in other city institutions. In 1935, the Library

ranked eighth out of seventeen agencies, receiving but 0.35% of

Federal appropriations. By 1942, it ranked second out of eleven,

receiving 6.31%.50 This sharp increase reflects the diversification

and expansion of white collar work and usefulness which allowed

the W.P.A. to prosper even after the war had started. By way of

comparison, the W.P.A. in the Cleveland Public Library was

moribund by 1940.

One could conclude by saying that the white collar thrust of the

New Deal was momentous because of its utility, the quality of its

work, or because of its legacies to the community. But Harry

Hopkins captured the true flavor and humanity of its intent in his

frequently quoted statement that the unemployed white collar

workers got hungry, and they too had to eat.51

NOTATIONS

!Quoted in William W. Breme, “Along the American Way”: The New

Deal’s Work Relief Programs for the Unemployed, Jour. Amer. Hist. 62,

637, 1975.

2William Leuchtenberg, Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal New

York, p. 124, 1963.

3M . S . Dudgeon, Secretary of the Board of Trustees and library director

to Joseph W. Nicholson, City of Milwaukee purchasing agent, Sept. 16,

1933; “Minutes of the Board of Trustees,” Dec. 12, 1933; “Memo for

Consideration of the Board,” Oct. 10, 1935; Frank T. Boesel, Milwaukee

N . R. A . Compliance Board, to M . S . Dudgeon, April 3, 1934. All citations

in Proceedings of the Board of Trustees. Hereafter cited as Proceedings.

4“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 12, 1933; Dudgeon to R . E .

Stoelting, Commissioner of Public Works and city member of the Local

Civil Works Board, Dec. 2, 1933, Proceedings. Unidentified typescript,

“Final Completion Report for C.W.A. Project #151, Dec. 8, 1933.

5“Minutes of the Board of Trustees,” Dec. 12, 1933, Proceedings.

6“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Apr. 10, 1934, Proceedings.

7Dudgeon to Stoelting, Dec. 2, 1933, Proceedings.

8Typescript, “Progress Report,” W.E.R. A. Project 40-F5-460. Copying

38

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

and Reproducing Music. Hereafter cited as W . E . R . A . Project 40-F5-460.

9Clipping, Milwaukee Leader, Feb. 2, 1934, W.E.R.A. Project 40-

F5-460.

10“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Jan. 8, 1935, Proceedings.

n“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 12, 1933; “Minutes of the

Board of Trustees,” May 14, 1935; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,”

Mar. 12, 1935. Proceedings; clipping, Milwaukee Leader, Feb. 2, 1934;

W.E.R.A. Project 40-F5-460. The music project operated under the aegis

of the Wisconsin Emergency Relief Administration (W.E.R.A.), which

distributed federal funds. See William P. Raney, Wisconsin, A Story of

Progress, New York, p. 495-497, 1940.

12Both of these projects were revised under the F . E . R . A . See typescript,

“Cataloging, Filing, Book Rehabilitation,” July 17, 1935. Project 40-F7-

150. Records and Catalog.

13“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” May 8, 1934, Proceedings.

14See Edward Barrett Stanford, Library Extension under the W.P.A., An

Appraisal of an Experiment in Federal Aid, University of Chicago Press,

1944 p. 24, 31.

15Interview: Harry Janicki, former supervisor of W.P. A. projects, June

23, 1976, Brown Deer, Wisconsin.

16Stanford, op. cit., p. 2.

17“Summary of Situation,” Mar. 8, 1937, Proceedings.

18Dudgeon to C.J. McGrane, Project Engineer, Jan. 26, 1939. Project

447. Rehabilitation of Books.

19Roy Charmock, District Director to Don Teter, W.P. A. Supervisor,

Sept. 23, 1935, Ibid; typescript, “Supplementary Information and

Operating Schedule Sponsor No. 229” Project 7787. Book Binding and

Repair.

20“Summary of Situation,” Mar. 8, 1937. Proceedings.

21 Ibid.

22Krug to Harriet Clinton, W.P. A. Supervisor, July 14, 1941, W.P. A.

Mending Project.

23“W.P.A. Mending Project Copy” W.P. A. Mending Project. The

project was not limited to book repair but also included the preparation of

bibliographies, the cataloging of unclassified library materials and several

other tasks. See Project 7787. Book Binding and Repair.

24“A brief summary of library activities for 1937,” Mar. 8, 1938,

Proceedings.

2bIbid; Milwaukee Newspaper Index Project (Manual) September, 1941.

26Daniel F. Ring, “The Cleveland Public Library and the W.P. A.: A

Study in Creative Partnership,” Ohio Hist. 84; (Summer, 1975) 160;

Minutes of the Board of Estimates, Oct. 29, 1942, p. 420-421; “Minutes of the

Board of Trustees,” Oct. 13, 1942, Proceedings; Milwaukee Newspaper

Index Project.

27Clipping, Milwaukee Sentinel, Dec. 18, 1963, Milwaukee Sentinel Index

File. In 1969 Dr. Herbert Rice began the awesome task of “editing,

combining, alphabetizing, and interalphabetizing” the items for the years

1880-1890. For further information see his “The Milwaukee Sentinel

Index,” Milwaukee Reader and Calendar of Local Events, 30, Apr. 24, 1972.

2SUnion List of Periodicals (Manual) preface, Mar. 20, 1939.

1977]

Ring — New Deal Work , Library

39

29William V. Arvold, State Supervisor, W . P . A . Music Project, To Krug,

Apr. 23, 1941, W.P.A. Music Copying Project.

30Teter to Dudgeon, Oct. 9, 1939. Project 10032. Music State Wide.

31 Milwaukee Journal , Aug. 25, 1935; Dudgeon to Teter, Nov. 13, 1938.

W.P.A. Music Copying Project.

32“Final Report W.P.A. Program — City of Milwaukee,” Oct. 1, 1942.

Project 2211. Copying and reproducing music scores to be kept in

Public Library.

33“Art Department,” Department Reports, 1941.

34“Art and Music Department,” Progress Reports, 1942.

35 Milwaukee Journal, Aug. 25, 1935.

36Clipping, Milwaukee Journal, Feb. 11, 1975. Milwaukee Public Library

Clipping Collection. The Catalog of Musical Selections in Milwaukee Public

Library Reproduced under the Federal Music Project, (1937) is itself a

superb guide and well worth looking at.

37“Art and Music Department,” Progress Reports, 1942.

38“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 8, 1942, Proceedings; A . L .

Wapp, Superintendent, W . P . A. to Krug, Aug. 5, 1941. War Information

Center.

39“Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec. 8, 1942. Proceedings;

“Sponsors Request for Project Authorization and Sponsors Agreement,”

War Information Center; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Jan. 13,

1942, Proceedings. The Victory Book Campaign was an effort on the part of

the Red Cross, the U.S.O. and the American Library Association to

acquire books for servicemen.

40“War Information Center,” Progress Reports, 1942.

41Unidentified newspaper clipping, May 25, 1942, Milwaukee Public

Library Clipping Collection.

42“War Information Center,” Progress Reports, 1942.

43Krug to Wapp, Apr. 13, 1942. Project 1005. Library-State- Wide.

44Unidentified newspaper clipping, Dec. 9, 1942, Milwaukee Public

Library Clipping Collection; “Memo for Consideration of the Board,” Dec.

8, 1942, Proceedings.

45 Minutes of the Board of Estimates, Dec. 9, 1942.

46Dr. Herbert Rice, former supervisor of Sentinel Index, communication

to author, May 30, 1976.

^Interview, Harry Janicki, June 23, 1976; Interview, Kenneth

Haagensen, former Project Director, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, June 25, 1976;

telephone interview, Harry Friedman, former projects technical advisor

for Sentinel Index, June 11, 1976. Dudgeon had served in various capacities

as a lawyer, legislator and district attorney before becoming director in

1920. Krug had been Municipal Reference Librarian 1930-1939 and

assistant city librarian from 1939-1941.

^Interview, Harry Janicki, June 23, 1976.

49See folders “W.P.A. Sports Room,” “W.P.A. Circulation Survey

Project” and “W.P.A. Miscellaneous” in Local History Room, Milwaukee

Public Library.

50City of Milwaukee W.P.A. Work Accomplished and Money Expended,

1935-36, 191+2-1+3. In 1935, white collar work in the city bureaus ranked in

the following order: School Board, Public Museum, City Comptroller,

40

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Health Department, Tax Assessor, Fire Department, Vocational School,

Public Library, City Treasurer, Building Inspector, Real Estate Division,

Harbor Commission, Land Commission, City Clerk, Municipal Reference

Library, City Attorney, Layton Art Gallery. In 1942, the order was Land

Commission, Public Library, Civilian Defense, Health Department, Public

Museum, School Board, City Comptroller, Municipal Reference Library,

Building Inspector, City Treasurer, Tax Enforcement.

51Cited in Frank Freidel, American Historians: a Bicentennial

Appraisal, Jour. Amer. Hist. 63 (June, 1976), p. 7.

LANDFORM DISTRIBUTION AND GENESIS IN THE

LANGLADE AND GREEN BAY GLACIAL LOBES,

NORTH-CENTRAL WISCONSIN

Alan R. Nelson

Boulder , Colorado

and

David M. Mickelson

University Wisconsin

—Madison

ABSTRACT

Landforms in the Langlade Lobe have a distribution

characteristic of many glacial lobes in the midwest. In the nothern

part of the Green Bay Lobe, landform distribution is more complex,

with several recessional moraines and extensive areas blanketed

with outwash and ice-contact stratified drift. Three landform zones

are recognized: 1) an end moraine zone made up of five ridge types

based on orientation, lithology, and form; 2) an intermediate zone of

ground moraine, eskers, and kames (not present in the Green Bay

Lobe); and 3) a zone of erosional drumlins.

The Langlade Lobe advanced twice from the highlands of the

Upper Peninsula of Michigan obliquely down the regional bedrock

slope. The Green Bay Lobe repeatedly advanced up the regional

bedrock slope out of the Green Bay lowland. The differences in

landform distribution and development between the two lobes is

due primarily to contrasting bedrock slopes of the glacier bed and

secondarily to the pattern of advances and retreats of each lobe.

INTRODUCTION

Numerous authors have noted a similarity in the distribution of

glacial landforms in areas formerly covered by the lobes of

continental ice sheets (Flint, 1971). The fact that this classic

distribution is so common despite differences in the scale, thermal

regime, and bed lithology of the glaciers involved suggests that the

distribution of landforms in glacial landscapes is determined

primarily by 1) the glaciological conditions which prevailed at or

near the maximum of a glacial advance, and 2) the location of the

landforms with respect to the center of the ice sheet or lobe (Sugden

and John, 1976). However, not all glacial landscapes exhibit this

classic distribution due to a number of other locally important

factors (Clayton and Moran, 1974). We will discuss the importance

41

42

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

of two of these factors — regional bedrock slope and glacial history

— in determining landform distribution in the Langlade and Green

Bay glacial lobes in north-central Wisconsin.

Because only one major recessional moraine exists, and in most

areas is adjacent to the terminal moraine, the landforms of the

Langlade Lobe conform to the classic distribution of landforms

within a lobe. The landform distribution in the northern part of the

Green Bay Lobe is more complex, with several recessional moraines

and extensive areas blanketed with outwash and ice-contact

stratified drift. We will discuss the landforms of both lobes in terms

of zones similar to those proposed by Clayton and Moran (1974),

Sugden and John (1976), and earlier workers, in which sets of

landforms exist in an orderly fashion. We feel that the degree of

development of these zones can be explained primarily by the

differences in the pre-Woodfordian topography of the areas over

which these lobes advanced. As Thwaites (1943) noted, the ice from

the Green Bay Lobe advanced up the regional slope out of the Green

Bay Lowland. The ice of the Langlade Lobe, after crossing the

highlands of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, advanced obliquely

down the regional slope. Other factors, such as differences in the

length of time the ice was in an equilibrium position, the thermal

regime of the base, or bed lithology, which might have influenced

landform distribution and development are difficult to distinguish

from the overriding influence of topography.

We have previously discussed the till lithologies and glacial

chronology in north-central Wisconsin in detail in Mickelson,

Nelson, and Stewart (1974) and Nelson(1973). During Woodfordian

(late Wisconsin) time, ice advanced into north-central Wisconsin

from the southeast (Green Bay Lobe), the northeast (Langlade

Lobe), and the north and northwest (Wisconsin Valley Lobe) (Fig.

1). Prominent terminal moraines were built by each lobe and the

existence of these moraines has been recognized since the work of

Chamberlin (1883.). The lobes were named by Weidman(1907) who

assumed the ice advances in each lobe were simultaneous.

Subsequent reconnaissance mapping by Thwaites (1943), who

named all of the moraines mentioned in this study except the

Harrison Moraine, outlined the basic distribution of drift in the

Langlade and Green Bay Lobes. Thwaites argued that the

deposition of the terminal moraines in the three lobes was

contemporaneous and that ice masses of the Langlade Lobe and

Green Bay Lobe were in contact with each other during retreat.

From our recent work we can demonstrate that these moraines are

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms , N. C. Wisconsin

43

MILES

FIGURE 1. Location map of north-central Wisconsin showing ice flow

directions, major moraines, drift boundaries, and other

physiographic features. The Merrill and Wausau Drifts and

Schelke Bog Site which pre-date the late Wisconsin moraines

are discussed in Stewart & Mickelson (1976).

not really time equivalents, although all of the events described took

place during Woodfordian time (about 12,500-20,000 years ago).

THE LANDFORM ZONES

End Moraine Zone

Our end moraine zone is much like the wastage zone of Sugden

and John (1976) and the marginal suite of Clayton and Moran

(1974), consisting mainly of till ridges oriented parallel to the

former ice margin with some ice disintegration features along the

inner edge of the zone.

Four genetically different lithologies make up the sediments of

the end moraine zone — lodgement till, ablation till, ice-contact

stratified drift, and outwash. Differences between ice-contact

stratified drift and outwash are due chiefly to deposition behind and

in front of the ice margin respectively (Price, 1973). Although more

detailed till classifications have been proposed (Boulton, 1968; 1970)

we prefer the two-fold lodgement-ablation classification used by

Flint (1971) and Dreimanis and Vagners (1971) because of

difficulty in distinguishing till deposited by meltout and flow

processes particularly in coarse-grained tills.

44

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Lodgement tills in north-central Wisconsin can be distinguished

from ablation tills on the basis of stratigraphic position, thickness,

color, grain size variability, and pebble fabric orientation (Nelson,

1973). Lodgement till in the end moraine zone of the Langlade Lobe

is typically l-7m thick with red-brown (2.5YR4/6 to 5YR4/4) colors,

massive to platy structure, approximately 6% clay, and strong

pebble fabrics perpendicular to the larger end moraines. The

overlying ablation till is light brown (7.5YR6/3) in color, massive to

semistratified and very friable, and has no preferred pebble

orientation, at least from outcrop to outcrop. Grain size distribution

in the latter averages 73% sand, 26% silt, and 1% clay, but is highly

variable, as is the thickness (0-4m).

In the Langlade Lobe the end moraine extends from the distal

edge of the Parrish Moraine to the proximal edge of the Summit

Lake Moraine, and averages 12 km in width (Fig. 2). Due to the

oMNE wTERWEDltfE

£ND w°Rk' ZONE

ZONE

drunal'N

ZONE

LANGLADE

lobe

green bay

lobe

FIGURE 2. Physiographic diagrams of general landform distribution in

the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes. The diagrams are not to

scale, but are diagrammatic illustration of the landform zones

and features (referenced by capital letters) found in each lobe.

A. Outwash fan

B. Outwash plain

C. Marsh Deposit

D. Kettle-hole (dry)

E. Kettle-hole lake

F. Outwash apron on moraine

front

G. Karnes

H. Drumlin

I. Ridges of till parallel to ice

front (Type 1)

J. Ridges of till perpendicular to

ice front (Type 2)

K. Ridges of sand and gravel

perpendicular to ice front

(Type 3)

L. Ridges of sand and gravel

parallel to ice front (Type 4)

M. Esker

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

45

many recessional moraines and extensive outwash deposits, the end

moraine zone of the Green Bay Lobe is wider (16 km), extending

from the distal edge of the Outer Moraine to the drumlin zone, with

no distinguishable intermediate zone of low ground moraine

composed of till and ice-contact stratified drift, as in the Langlade

Lobe.

The complex and widely distributed ridges which make up most

features in the end moraine zones of each lobe can be divided into

five types (Fig. 2): ridges composed dominantly of lodgement till

and oriented parallel to the ice margin (Type 1), those made up of

lodgement till and oriented perpendicular to the ice margin (Type

2), those made up of ablation till and stratified drift and oriented

perpendicular to the ice margin (Type 3), those made up of ablation

till and stratified drift and oriented parallel to the ice margin (Type

4), and those without particular orientation (Type 5).

Type 1 Ridges

Type 1 till ridges, oriented parallel to the former ice margin,

average 1.2 km in length, 300 m in width, and 20 m in height in the

Outer Moraine and are up to 1.5 km long, 400 m wide, and 30 m high

in the Parrish Moraine (Fig. 3). Although they are lower and less

continuous, these ridges are also present within the recessional

moraines throughout the Green Bay Lobe. The higher relief in the

Parrish and Summit Lake Moraines results in more exposures in

these ridges, some of which contain lodgement till with pebble

fabrics (Nelson, 1973) consistent with expected ice flow directions

overlain by up to several meters of ablation till. The origin of these

ridges, however, is uncertain. They may be due to increased

deposition where till was sheared up along concentrations of shear

planes near the ice margin, followed by meltout deposition of

ablation till.

The smaller ridges containing lodgement till may have been

formed in part by ice shove or stacking of till near the margin.

Exposures are poor, however, and evidence for this is lacking.

Another possibility is that most basal till deposition was taking

place in a very narrow zone near the ice margin and that the ridges

represent brief pauses in retreat of ice margin position or pulses in

the rate of till deposition in time.

Type 2 Ridges

Although far less common than other ridge types in the Parrish

and Summit Lake Moraines, Type 2 ridges, perpendicular to the ice

46

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

km

FIGURE 3. Lodgement till ridges oriented parallel to ice flow (solid

arrows) and perpendicular to ice flow (dashed arrows) in the

Parrish Moraine of the Langlade Lobe north of the town of

Antigo (Fig. 1). North is at top of map (from USGS Elcho S. E.

Quadrangle).

margin, occur in parts of the proximal side of the Parrish Moraine.

Here parallel ridges of lodgement till (some with aim veneer of

ablation till) are about 10 m high and 100-150 m apart (Figs. 2 and

3). They begin abruptly at the proximal edge of the moraine and

extend nearly to the crest. Mechanical analyses, till color, and a till

fabric measurement indicate that these ridges are composed of

basal till and represent large grooves on the till surface. No

evidence was found for features of this type in the Green Bay Lobe,

although similar ridges in this lobe could have been buried by later

outwash.

Type S Ridges

Type 3 features are ice disintegration ridges as defined by

Gravenor and Kupsch (1959). Most of those perpendicular to the

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms , N. C. Wisconsin

47

former ice margin are probably ice channel fillings formed both

above and beneath the ice. The largest ridges (700 m long, 200 m

wide, and 10 m high) are found in the Langlade Lobe, primarily

near the crest of the moraines and on their distal sides (Fig. 2). No

flow direction studies have been done, but these ridges were

probably deposited by water flowing toward the outer margin of the

ice or by slumping of washed materials into longitudinal (splaying)

crevasses.

Several much larger features found only in the Green Bay Lobe,

are channels which have ice disintegration ridges 20 m high lining

their sides, are up to 12 km long and 0.5 km wide and appear to be

ice-contact drainageways which were meltwater outlets while the

Green Bay Lobe was at the Outer Moraine (Figs. 2 and 4). The

channels are the result of either subglacial drainage similar to the

tunnel valleys of the Superior Lobe in Minnesota discussed by

Wright (1973) or large englacial or supraglacial streams flowing

FIGURE 4. Two examples of large ice-contact drainageways (solid

arrows) through the Outer Moraine (dashed line) of the Green

Bay Lobe about 8 km northeast of the town of Antigo (Fig. 1).

The drainageways were the primary outlets for meltwater

while the ice was at the position of the Outer Moraine. North is

at top of map (from USGS Antigo S. E. Quadrangle, 1976).

48

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

out of or off the ice. The hydrostatic head needed to develop channels

flowing up the regional slope may have been supplied by a

northwest sloping ice surface profile. Ice flowing to the northwest

from the center of the lobe in Green Bay would have provided such a

-^-km

FIGURE 5. Air photo stereopair (photo no. BHW-5-44, 45, 1936) in the

western part of the Parrish Moraine (NE 1/4, S24, T33N,

R10E) showing parallel ridges of sand and gravel which are

probably small coalescing outwash fans built synchronously

along an ice margin. Symbols on the upper photo refer to an

earlier soils mapping sheet.

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

49

gradient. That deposition of material was predominantly on or in

ice can be seen by the collapsed nature of the deposits.

Type h Ridges

Ice disintegration ridges generally parallel to the ice margin

occur discontinuously in the Parrish Moraine along its distal edge.

South of Summit Lake the largest ridges are 4 km long and reach a

height of 17 m. Five roughly parallel ridges occur en echelon in this

part of the moraine (Figs. 2 and 5). Exposures in these features show

inclined planar-bedded sand and gravel suggesting that the ridges

are small coalescing outwash fans built synchronously along an ice

margin.

In the Green Bay Lobe the smaller scale features of this type are

not prominent, but thick, widespread sheets of outwash found in

some areas of the Green Bay Lobe might have been spread over thin

stagnant ice, thus hiding the evidence for disintegration ridges

forming during deglaciation. In fact, the extensive pitted outwash

in the Green Bay Lobe is probably analogous to these ridges in the

Langlade Lobe. However, along the proximal edge of and within the

Elderon Moraine (Fig. 1), large channels up to 5 km long and 0.5 km

wide and oriented parallel with the moraine have been eroded in the

drift (Fig. 2). Also noted by Thwaites (1943), these probably were

developed along an ice margin between the higher areas of

recessional moraine as the ice stagnated during retreat. No

analogous channels have been identified in the Langlade Lobe.

Type 5 Deposits

The end moraine zones of both the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes

also contain numerous smaller ice-contact forms (Type 5 deposits)

such as ice-contact rings, kames, kettles, and moraine lake plateaus

like those which have been described from other areas of ice

stagnation (Parizek, 1969). The size of these features suggests that a

debris layer several meters thick must have covered some areas of

the ice near the terminus. Exposures in these deposits contain large

blocks of slumped sediment, flow structures, blocks of till within

stratified bodies of sand and gravel, and irregular thicknesses of

ablation till due to topographic inversion during disintegration of

the ice masses. The density and relief of these features in the Green

Bay Lobe is less than in the Langlade Lobe due to partial burial by

extensive, pitted outwash deposits. The moraine lakes which built

50

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the small circular plaeaus in the Parrish Moraine were of the

“uncoalesced ice-walled” type proposed by Clayton and Cherry

( 1967) and were formed over a short period in a relatively unstable

stagnant ice environment. Several small circular elevated plains

found in the Outer Moraine south of Antigo may also have a moraine

lake origin.

Outwash

Additional depositional contrasts are evident in the outwash

areas in front of the end moraine zones of each lobe. A wedge-shaped

apron of outwash was deposited along the Parrish Moraine of the

Langlade Lobe, while the ice stood at the moraine. Exposures up to

15 m deep near the moraine contain coarse, bouldery outwash which

gradually thins to the south. The gently rolling topography with a

southerly bedrock slope enabled streams from the Langlade Lobe to

spread this outwash over a wide area as far south as Antigo (Figs. 1

and 2).

The outwash in front of the Outer Moraine of the Green Bay Lobe

is also quite extensive in the Antigo flats area, although the apron is

not as thick and continuous near the moraine. The latest drainage

from the ice carried water southward along the moraine front into

the present Eau Claire River drainage south of Antigo. Drainage

from the Parrish Moraine probably also contributed to the cutting

of channels across the flats. The large ice-contact drainageways

described under Type 3 ridges may have provided much of the

outwash on the Antigo flats. Each of the drainageways deposited an

outwash fan where it breaches the Outer Moraine (Figs. 2 and 4),

suggesting that while the Green Bay Lobe stood at the Outer

Moraine, large streams flowing from under or within the ice were

depositing outwash over the Antigo plain. As the ice retreated from

the moraine, the relief of the moraine and the southeast bedrock

slope insured that later outwash was deposited within and between

the later recessional moraines.

Intermediate Zone of Ground Moraine

The intermediate zone of ground moraine (Fig. 2), from 0 to 8 km

wide, is present only in the Langlade Lobe where it consists of low,

rolling ground moraine of thin till and ice-contact stratified drift

with eskers up to 10 km long and numerous kames. These features

were partially buried by outwash along the distal side of the

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

51

Summit Lake Moraine. Little ablation debris is present on the

lodgement till in this zone. Sugden and John (1976) attribute the

lack of ablation till in this zone of an ice sheet to the small amount of

material carried into englacial positions because of reduced

compressive flow away from the margin of the ice. Alternatively, if

retreat was rapid in comparison with that of the ice margin as it

stood at the terminal moraine, little ablation till would be deposited

in this zone even from debris-rich ice. The advance of ice in the

Green Bay Lobe to the Elderon and Bowler Moraines (Fig. 1) may

have destroyed this zone if it existed during the formation of the

Outer Moraine and many features may be covered with later

outwash.

Zone of Drumlins

Numerous drumlins (in the sense of elongate hills) with a

southwest orientation are present in the Langlade Lobe north and

northeast of the intermediate and end moraine zones about 16 km

behind the terminal moraine (Fig. 2). Dimensions average 600-1200

m by 100-300 m, but some drumlins are up to 2.5 km long. Although

many drumlins are partially buried, heights reach 30 m above the

surrounding outwash.

The internal characteristics of the majority of the Langlade Lobe

drumlins were not examined, but cuts through and cores of about

ten of them show outwash, flat-bedded where it can be seen, of the

Green Bay Lobe. In one gravel pit in southern Forest County about

10 m of gravel is underlain by at least 18 m of sand. The gravel in the

core of the drumlins is capped with 2-5 m of Langlade Lobe till. At

the east edge of this pit a discontinuous line of boulders marks the

till-gravel contact.

The thinness of the till, and the gravel-core character of these

drumlins require that they be erosional rather than depositional.

This type of drumlin has been described by many authors including

Gravenor (1953), Aronow (1959), Flint (1971), Muller (1974), and

Whittecar and Mickelson (1977), and that literature will not be

reviewed here. From a hypothetical reconstruction of the ice

surface profile of the Langlade Lobe, we suggest that these

drumlins formed under wet-based ice approximately 1000 m thick

(Nelson and Mickelson, 1974). Numerous reasons for the differen¬

tial erosion of this type of drumlin have been suggested, but none

have been demonstrated.

52

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Only a few drumlins are found in the Green Bay Lobe in this

region. They are less elongate and less symmetrical than the

drumlins in the Langlade Lobe, but they begin at about the same

distance behind the terminal moraine (16 km, Fig. 2). Widths are

approximately 200-400 m, a few being more than 1 km long and 20

m high.

THE GLACIAL SEQUENCE AND LANDFORM

DEVELOPMENT

We have shown that the Green Bay Lobe differs from lobes with a

typical landform distribution such as the Langlade Lobe in having

all zones dominated by extensive outwash and ice-contact stratified

drift, having very large subglacial or englacial drainage channels

extending through the end moraine zone, and lacking an in¬

termediate ground moraine zone or extensive drumlin zone. From a

general model of glacial advance and retreat similar to that

proposed by Clayton and Moran (1974), these differences in

landform development and distribution between two lobes could be

attributed to the differing topography over which each lobe

advanced. However, the present landform distribution is the

product of several alternating advances and retreats of the ice of

each lobe during Woodfordian times. The following chronology

attempts to show how these differences in landform distribution

developed during the sequence of glacial events in north-central

Wisconsin. Because no radiocarbon dates directly associated with

the moraines are available, relative ages were determined by cross¬

cutting moraine relationships (Mickelson, Nelson, and Stewart,

1974).

The earliest recorded advance during Woodfordian time is that of

the Green Bay Lobe to the Outer Moraine. During this advance out

of the Green Bay basin into north-central Wisconsin from the

southeast, the ice must have overriden much of its own outwash and

earlier drift deposits before reaching its terminal position. While

the ice was at the Outer Moraine, lodgement and ablation till were

deposited in the marginal zone forming ridge Types 1 and 2, and

outwash was spread over a large area of the Antigo outwash plain

by the ice-contact drainageways described under Type 3 ridges.

The drumlins found 16 km southeast of the moraine were probably

also developed while the ice was in this position. Stagnation within

the moraine and retreat to the recessional Elderon Morainic System

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

53

followed, producing small Types 3 and 5 ridges in the Outer

Moraine.

Some time after the formation of the Outer Moraine and the

deposition of the large outwash plain near Antigo, the Langlade

Lobe advanced to its terminal position, building the Parrish

Moraine. This advance also overrode older deposits and its own

outwash before depositing a thick lodgement till in the marginal

zone. However, unlike the Green Bay Lobe, the ice advanced down a

gentle regional bedrock slope in an area of relatively shallow drift.

While the ice was at the moraine, Types 1 and 2 ridges were formed

extensively beneath the ice, and drift within the ice was carried to

the surface in the marginal area of compressive flow. This mantle of

super-glacial till then filled longitudinal crevasses and other

openings in the ice, forming ridge Types 4 and 5. The drumlins in

the area northeast of the terminal moraine were differentially

eroded from previously deposited till and underlying Green Bay

Lobe outwash at this time.

While the ice was at its terminal position an outwash apron was

built along the north edge of the Antigo outwash plain and several

branches of the Eau Claire River carried non-dolomitic Langlade

Lobe outwash across the dolomitic outwash of the Green Bay Lobe.

Although dead ice buried by debris may have been present in the

Outer Moraine when the Parrish Moraine was built, the main ice

mass of the Green Bay Lobe had retreated at least back to the

Elderon Morainic System. Outwash flowing from this ice margin

was trapped behind the Outer Moraine without reaching the Antigo

plain and the channels parallel to the margin described under Type

4 ridges may have been eroded at this time.

Ice remained in the Parrish Moraine until after retreat of the

Green Bay Lobe ice from the Elderon Morainic System. That the

two ice lobes were joined during the building of the outer Elderon

Moraine can be seen by the change in orientation of morainal

features in the area of contact between the two lobes. Here, parallel

Type 4 ridges of ice contact drift from both lobes are found in the

moraine. From the composition (intermixed dolomite contents) and

northeast orientation of the ridges, we suggest that they were built

by debris brought into the ice by shear planes due to compressional

flow in both lobes, and then letdown as partially washed ice-contact

debris.

Ice, probably debris covered, remained in the Parrish Moraine

and in the interlobate part of the Elderon Moraine after the retreat

of Green Bay Lobe ice. Outwash streams carried gravel with a low

54

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

(< 5%) dolomite content (suggesting a Langlade Lobe source)

southeastward to the outer Bowler Moraine of the Green Bay Lobe.

After the formation of the Parrish and Elderon Moraines, both

lobes retreated an unknown distance, depositing superglacial drift

on locally grooved lodgement till, covering it in many places. As the

ice masses separated from the margin, meltout deposits (Type 3

ridges and Type 5) were formed and Type 4 ridges developed along

some areas of the retreating ice margin. Little outwash is present

between the Parrish and Summit Lake Moraines, although outwash

valleys carried water across the Antigo outwash plain in the Eau

Claire River and into the W olf River to the south and east. E xtensive

dolomitic (up to 30%) outwash, much of it pitted, was deposited

behind the Elderon Moraine by the Green Bay Lobe ice as it

retreated down slope, burying many features.

The ice of the Langlade Lobe readvanced to, or remained at, the

Summit Lake Moraine while ice in the Green Bay Lobe retreated

down slope beyond the outer Bowler Moraine. Marginal processes of

till deposition in the recessional moraines resulted in the same types

of landforms that were produced in the terminal moraines, but on a

smaller scale.

Large amounts of outwash from the Langlade Lobe were

deposited along the Wolf River, and as an outwash apron extending

from at least 13 km east of Antigo to the front of the Bowler

Moraine. At the reentrant between the two moraines, an area of

kettled interlobate deposits formed which contained stagnant ice

for some time after the retreat of both lobes from these moraines.

As the margin of the Langlade Lobe retreated from the Summit

Lake Moraine into the zone of ground moraine, eskers and kames

were deposited over a thin lodgement till. The ice margin then

retreated over the drumlins, depositing a thin lodgement till over

the shaped gravels. Outwash streams such as the Wolf and Pelican

Rivers buried much of this zone with outwash. As the ice margin

continued to retreat up slope, thin lodgement and ablation till were

deposited on the eroded bedrock and drift surface north of the

drumlins. No other recessional moraines of the Langlade Lobe were

formed between the Summit Lake Moraine and the very small,

discontinuous Laona Moraine (Thwaites, 1943) 40 km to the north.

As the ice of the Green Bay Lobe retreated from the Bowler

Moraine, small, discontinuous recessional moraines, mainly

composed of ice-contact sand and gravel, were built at least as far

southeast as the Mountain Moraine. Also during this time an

1977]

Nelson , Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

55

outwash plain was spread from the ice in the interlobate area onto

Green Bay Lobe drift between the Bowler and Mountain Moraines.

After an unknown interval following the retreat of the Green Bay

Lobe ice from the Bowler Moraine, ice advanced to the Mountain

Moraine. There is no evidence that ice was present during this

advance in areas previously covered by ice, even in the interlobate

area, and the position of the Langlade Lobe margin at this time is

unknown.

CONCLUSIONS

While the location and size of landform zones within a glacial lobe

are probably most dependent on the scale and thermal regime of the

ice lobe, the differences in landform distribution and character

between the Langlade and Green Bay Lobes is due primarily to the

differing slopes of the glacier bed and secondarily to the pattern of

advances and retreats of each lobe. A bedrock and older drift

surface sloping opposite to the direction of ice flow in the Green Bay

Lobe prevented meltwater from rapidly draining away from the ice

margin which allowed ice-contact features to be extensively

dissected by glaciofluvial streams and partially buried by outwash.

The large meltwater channels eroded in the drift of the Green Bay

Lobe both perpendicular and parallel to the end moraines are also

the result of large amounts of meltwater with extensive

contemporaneous outwash deposition. The repetitive advance and

retreat history with relatively long-lasting stagnant ice in the

moraines of the Green Bay Lobe accentuated the dissection and

reworking of ice-contact sediments and deposition of outwash by

providing more episodes of meltwater production over a longer

period of time than in the Langlade Lobe. The much better drainage

of the latter with a single short-lived readvance to the Summit Lake

Moraine prevented the glacial features formed during the building

of the Parrish Moraine from being greatly modified by glaciofluvial

processes, thus preserving the classic zonal landform distribution

in the Langlade Lobe.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Funds for this research were provided in part by the Wisconsin

Alumni Research Foundation administered by the Graduate School

of the University of Wisconsin-Madison. We thank N. P. Lasca and

D. S. Cherkauer for critically reviewing the manuscript.

56

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

REFERENCES CITED

Aronow, S. 1959. Drumlins and related streamline features in the

Warwick-Tokio area, North Dakota. Amer. Jour. Sci., 257: 191-203.

Boulton, G. S. 1968. Flow tills and related deposits on some Vestspitzbergen

glaciers. Jour. Glaciology, 9: 213-229.

_ _ _ _ 197 0. On the deposition of subglacial and melt-out tills at the

margins of certain Svalbard glaciers. Jour. Glaciology, 9: 231-245.

Chamberlin, T. C. 1883. Geology of Wisconsin. Geol. Nat. Hist. Survey, v. 1,

300 pp.

Clayton, L., and J. A. Cherry. 1967. Pleistocene superglacial and ice-walled

lakes of west-central North America, in Clayton and Freers, eds., Glacial

Geology of the Missouri Coteau: North Dakota Geol. Survey, Misc. Ser. 30,

p. 47-52.

_ _ and S. R. Moran. 1974. A glacial process-form model, in

Coates, D. R., ed., Glacial Geomorphology, 5th Annual Geomorphology

Symposium: Pub. Geomorphology, State Univ. New York, Binghamton,

p. 89-120.

Dreimanis, A., and U. J. Vagners, 1971. Bimodal distribution of rock and

mineral fragments in basal tills, in, Goldthwait, R. P., et al., eds., Till, a

Symposium : Ohio State Univ. Press, Columbus, p. 237-250.

Flint, R. F. 1971, Glacial and Quaternary Geology. John Wiley and Sons,

New York 892 pp.

Gravenor, C. P. 1953, The origin of drumlins. Amer. Jour. Sci. 251: 674-681.

_ , and W. O. Kupsch, 1959. Ice disintegration features in

western Canada. Jour. Geol. 67: 48-64.

Mickelson, D. M., A. R. Nelson, and M. T. Stewart, 1974. Glacial events in

north-central Wisconsin, in Knox, J. C., and D. M. Mickelson, eds., Late

Quaternary Environments of Wisconsin: Amer. Quaternary Assoc. Third

Biennial Meeting, p. 163-181.

Muller, E. H. 1974. Origin of drumlins, in Coates, D. R., ed. Glacial

Geomorphology, 5th Annual Geomorphology Symposium: Pub.

Geomorphology, State Univ. New York, Binghamton, p. 187-204.

1977]

Nelson, Mickelson — Landforms, N. C. Wisconsin

57

Nelson, A. R. 1973, Age relationships of the Wisconsin V alley and Langlade

glacial lobes of north-central Wisconsin: M.S. thesis, Univ. Wisconsin,

Madison, unpub., 130 pp.

_ _ _ and D. M. Mickelson, 1974. Landforms of the Langlade

Lobe, north-central Wisconsin: Late Quaternary Environments of

Wisconsin, eds. J. C. Knox and D. M. Mickelson; American Quat. Assoc.

Third Biennial Meeting, Univ. Wisconsin-Madison, July 28-August 2,

1974, p. 187-195.

Parizek, R. R. 1969, Glacial ice-contact rings and ridges: Geol. Soc. Amer.,

Special Paper 123, p. 49-102.

Price, R. J. 1973. Glacial and Fluvioglacial Landforms: Oliver and Boyd,

Edinburgh, 242 pp.

Stewart, M. T., and D. M. Mickelson. 1976. Clay mineralogy and relative

age of tills in north-central Wisconsin. Jour. Sed. Pet. 46: 200-205.

Sugden, D. E., and B. S. John. 1976. Glaciers and Landscape: A

Geomorphological Approach. John Wiley and Sons, New York, 376 pp.

Thwaites, F. T. 1943. The Pleistocene of part of northeastern Wisconsin.

Geol. Soc. Amer. Bull. 54, p. 87-144.

Weidman, S., 1907. The geology of north-central Wisconsin. Wis. Geol.

Survey Bull. 16, 697 pp.

Whittecar, G. R., and D. M. Mickelson. 1977. Sequence of till deposition and

erosion in drumlins. Boreas 6: 213-218.

Wright, H. E., Jr. 1973. Tunnel valleys, glacial surges, and subglacial

hydrology of the Superior Lobe, Minnesota. Geol. Soc. Amer., Memoir

136, p. 251-276.

CAMBRIAN CONGLOMERATE EXPOSURE IN

NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN: A NEW

INTERPRETATION

Allen F. Mattis

Tulsa , Oklahoma

ABSTRACT

A large exposure of conglomerate previously assigned a Late

Precambrian age is re-interpreted as basal Cambrian. Nearby

Precambrian quartzite exposures provided the quartzite pebbles in

the conglomerate. Deposition of the conglomerate apparently

occurred in shallow waters near more resistant quartzite islands as

the Cambrian sea transgressed on to the Wisconsin Arch.

INTRODUCTION

An exposure of quartzite pebble conglomerate in northern

Wisconsin may represent the northernmost exposure of Cambrian

deposits in Wisconsin. The exposure lies near the northern end of

the River Falls Syncline, where a tongue of Cambrian sedimentary

rocks extends northward onto the Precambrian rocks of the

Wisconsin Arch (Fig. 1). The Precambrian rocks of the area consist

of the Late Precambrian Keweenawan series of lava flows and red

beds, a Pre-Keweenawan Late Precambrian quartzite unit named

the Barron Formation, and an undifferentiated group of Early and

Middle Precambrian igneous and metamorphic rocks.

Because of the presence of widespread thick glacial deposits,

outcroppings are not common in the area. The exposures examined

in this project are the only known exposures in a 144 square mile

area of four townships. Information about the bedrock geology of

the area comes from well logs and geophysical data. These reports

indicate that Cambrian sandstone underlies most of the area.

FIELD RELATIONSHIPS AND PETROLOGY

The exposures examined lie in Sections 1 and 12, T39N, R11W,

Washburn County, Wisconsin (Fig. 2). The exposures were

previously described during a mineral survey by the Wisconsin

Geological and Natural History Survey (Hotchkiss, 1915), and

assigned a Precambrian age. This interpretation called for two

58

1977]

Mattis— Cambrian Exposure , N W Wisconsin

59

episodes of quartzite deposition during the Late Precambrian: 1)

Deposition of the Barron Formation, which was weathered to

produce the quartzite clasts in the conglomerate, and 2) The later

deposition of the conglomerate. Regional evidence for two periods of

quartzite deposition during the Late Precambrian does not appear

to exist. A more reasonable interpretation appears to be that the

clasts in the conglomerate were derived from the nearby Late

Precambrian Barron Formation, and that the conglomerate

represents basal Cambrian deposition. A similar interpretation has

been made for a quartzite breccia 30 miles to the south near Canton,

Wisconsin (Hotchkiss, 1915).

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

SEC. I

FIGURE 2. Map of exposures in Sections 1 and 12, T39N, R11W,

Washburn County, Wisconsin.

The exposures examined in this investigation lie on a prominent

hill which overlooks MacKay V alley. At the base of the north side of

the hill, a series of quartzite ledges are exposed with an attitude of

N85°E, 15°N. Near the top of the north side of the hill, several

ledges with an attitude of N85°E, 5°N are exposed. On the northeast

side of the hill, a quartzite ledge with an attitude of N60°W, 8°N is

exposed. All of these exposures consist of well cemented pink to

light red quartzite, which breaks across the individual well-sorted,

well-rounded grains. Modal analyses of thin sections (Table 1)

indicate an orthoquartzite composition for the exposure. The

exposed ledges indicate a thickness of at least 35 m for the quartzite.

On the southeast side of the hill, an exposure of 16 m of

conglomerate with an attitude of N45°E, 48°N is present. This

conglomerate consists of very well rounded pebbles of light pink

quartzite and vein quartz in a yellow sandstone matrix. The pebbles

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure, N W Wisconsin

61

TABLE 1. MODAL ANALYSES OF QUARTZITE, NORTH

SIDE OF HILL.

Sample

No. Location

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement

during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

have a maximum diameter of 20 cm, with average of about 4 cm. A

pebble count indicates that the conglomerate is composed of 81%

quartzite clasts, 1% quartz clasts, and 18% sandstone matrix. The

pebbles are in contact with each other, and form a solid framework.

The conglomerate is poorly bedded, and the clasts do not exhibit

preferred orientation. Both the clasts and the matrix have been

fractured by a later event. Modal analyses of thin sections of the

clasts (Table 2) indicate an orthoquartzite composition, and

compare very closely to the quartzite exposures on the north side of

the hill. Both the pebbles and the quartzite exposures on the north

side of the hill are similar in composition (Table 3) to the Late

Precambrian Barron Formation which is exposed in the area. It

appears that the quartzite exposures on the north side of the hill are

Barron Formation, and that the pebbles in the conglomerate on the

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

TABLE 2. MODAL ANALYSES OF PEBBLES FROM

CONGLOMERATE, SOUTHEAST SIDE OF HILL.

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement

during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

southeast side of the hill were derived from this formation.

The matrix of the conglomerate differs from the clasts in several

ways. The matrix consists of moderately rounded, coarse grained

sandstone, whereas the clasts are composed of medium grained,

well-rounded, well-sorted quartzite. The matrix ranges from

yellow to buff in color, whereas the quartzite clasts are pink to light

red. Modal analyses of thin sections (Table 4) indicate several other

differences between the conglomerate matrix and the quartzite

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure, N W Wisconsin

63

TABLE 3. MODAL ANALYSES OF BARRON FORMATION,

NORTHWESTERN WISCONSIN.

Sample

No. Location

Figures are %, x = < 1%.

clasts. The matrix is not as well cemented as the quartzite, and

contains an average of 12% pore space. Also, minor amounts of

quartzite fragments are present in the matrix.

These data and field relationships are the basis for this new

interpretation of these exposures. Because the attitude and

composition of the exposures on the north side of the hill are all

similar, these exposures are interpreted as being portions of the

same formation or unit. The similarity between this unit and the

64

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

TABLE 4. MODAL ANALYSES OF CAMBRIAN (?) CON¬

GLOMERATE MATRIX, SECTIONS 1 AND 12,

T39N, R11W, WASHBURN COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

Sample

No. Location

0>

o

03

a

co

<X>

i-,

o

Ph

*Granulated quartz formed by crushing of silica overgrowths and cement

during folding. Figures are %, x = < 1%.

nearby Barron Formation strongly suggests that this quartzite unit

is correlative with the Barron Formation. The nearly identical

composition of this quartzite unit and the clasts in the conglomerate

on the southeast side of the hill also strongly suggests that the clasts

were derived from this quartzite, of presumably Late Precambrian

age. The significant difference in attitude between the con¬

glomerate and the quartzite indicates that a tectonic episode

apparently occurred during the time interval between deposition of

these two units. The age of the conglomerate then must post-date the

deposition of the quartzite and the later folding, and is therefore

interpreted as being Cambrian.

1977]

Mattis — Cambrian Exposure , N W Wisconsin

65

CAMBRIAN SEDIMENTATION AND PALEOGEOGRAPHY

Because of the lack of fossils and indicative sedimentary features,

only general inferences about the Cambrian sedimentation and

paleogeography may be made. The rather large clast size in the

conglomerate indicates the existence of a nearby source area,

probably a high hill of resistant Barron Formation. Such resistant

hills would have projected above the Late Cambrian sea as it

transgressed onto the Wisconsin Arch. These islands would have

shed quartzite debris into the surrounding sea, in a manner similar

to that described by Dott (1974) near islands in the Cambrian sea of

the Baraboo District, Wisconsin. The solid framework of the clasts

in the conglomerate indicates the presence of rather high velocity

currents during deposition. These currents swept away the sand

and finer grained sediment, leaving behind the solid framework of

cobbles and pebbles. Sand later filtered in between the clasts. The

environment necessary to produce such a sequence of events would

exist in the turbulent nearshore waters of a group of islands,

particularly within the tropical latitudes which existed in Wiscon¬

sin during Cambrian time (Dott, 1974).

It is very difficult to determine the exact correlation of the

conglomerate unit with the well exposed Cambrian strata of the

Upper Mississippi Valley 80 km to the south (Twenhofel et ah,

1935). Because of similar difficulties, Dalziel and Dott (1970)

designated a conglomerate facies around the islands which existed

in the Baraboo District during the Cambrian, and made no attempt

to precisely correlate the Baraboo conglomerate deposits with the

more widespread Cambrian strata of the Upper Mississippi Valley.

It seems most probable that the conglomerate exposures of the

Mac Kay Valley area are a high energy, nearshore facies of the

shallow water marine Dresbach Formation, which thins northward

from the Upper Mississippi Valley as it passes over the Wisconsin

Arch (Hamblin, 1961).

The lack of Cambrian exposures in the northern end of the River

Falls Syncline makes it difficult to accurately reconstruct Cam¬

brian paleogeography. The varying Precambrian rock types of the

region were no doubt expressed topographically, with the more

resistant rocks such as the Barron Formation forming hills. As the

Late Cambrian sea transgressed onto the Wisconsin Arch, the low

areas were inundated, and the hills became islands. The resulting

shallow water deposition left a thin widespread blanket of

sandstone and conglomerate over the region.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The writer gratefully acknowledges the assistance of Anita Gerb

Mattis during this project. Richard Olsson and Martha Hamil made

helpful suggestions during preparation of the manuscript. The

Department of Geology, Rutgers University, provided laboratory

facilities.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Dalziel, I.W.D., and R. H., Dott, Jr. 1970, Geology of the Baraboo District,

Wisconsin, Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Sur., Inform. Circ. 14, 164 pp.

Dott, R. H., Jr. 1974, Cambrian tropical storm waves in Wisconsin.

Geology, 2: 243-246.

Hamblin, W. K. 1961, Paleogeographic evolution of the Lake Superior

region from Late Keweenawan to Late Cambrian time, Geol. Soc. Amer.

Bull., 72: 18 pp.

Hotchkiss, W. 0., 1915, Mineral Land Classification: Ashland, Bayfield,

Washburn, Sawyer, Price, Oneida, Forest, Rusk, Barron, and Chippewa

Counties, Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Sur., Bull. 44, Econ. Series 19,

378 pp.

Twenhofel, W. H., G. 0. Raasch, and F. T. Thwaites. 1935. Cambrian Strata

of Wisconsin, Geol. Soc. Amer., Bull. 46, 1687-1744.

DEWEY AND NIETZSCHE: THEIR

INSTRUMENTALISM COMPARED

Alfred Castle

Roswell , New Mexico

Careful comparative scholarship has shown clearly that John

Dewey’s instrumentalism is not a peculiarly unique formal

articulation of the realistic and democratic temper of the American

people. Students of the “internal” history of ideas, i.e. those who

examine the “relationship between what some men write or say and

what other men write or say,”1 have noted similarities between

Dewey’s experimentalism and Hume’s empirical analysis, Kant’s

phenomena (but not the noumena), Hegel’s phenomenology, the

social orientation of the Utilitarians, the positivism of Comte and

Haeckel, and Bergson’s emphasis on activity.2 Dewey himself

recognized and expounded upon the logical connections between his

brand of pragmatism and the separate thought of several European

philosophers.3 Although many comparative studies have discour¬

aged the parochial misprizoning of instrumentalism, further work

needs to be done. No account of experimentalism’s European

resemblances can be complete without the recognition of

similarities with the thought of Friedrich Nietzsche. The purpose of

this paper is to demonstrate likeness of thought in three areas:

attitude toward metaphysics, concepts of truth, and ideas on the

nature of value. My hope is that such a demonstration will enlarge

the conceptual Euro-American background against which in¬

strumentalism must be understood.

John Dewey’s claim that ideas are instruments of action and that

their usefulness determines their truth had profound implications

for his view toward metaphysics. He agreed with Arthur Lovejoy

that metaphysical constructions have been the dominant concern of

intellectual mankind throughout history4 but found this pursuit to

be rooted in man’s deep sense of insecurity. Man, long before the

Heideggerian angst became fashionable, had found himself

confronted with a dark, uncertain world infused with peril and

mystery. Such a cosmos demanded appeasement but the available

manipulative arts were often futile. Tools were often inadequate

and the senses never fully reliable. In reaction to his natural

condition, early man compensated with myth, ritual, and most

importantly, protometaphysics. This latter device would contribute

an a priori order and rationale to the fanciful belief systems and

67

68

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

practices of mankind. As Dewey tells it, “Exaltation of pure

intellect and its activity above practical affairs is fundamentally

connected with the quest for a certainty which shall be absolute and

unshakeable.”5 Significantly, then, these beliefs and practices

attempted to deal with the vicissitudes of secular life by celebrating

the tranStemporal perfections of another life.

Construction of such a perfect world provided early humans with

access to a secure arena of action (Dewey might say “non-action”).

Correlative to this construction was the establishment of special

techniques which would allow knowing that was sure, universal,

and revelatory; such knowledge was quite different from the

fumbling way of the senses used by artisan and eoscientist who were

involved in a world of mere fact, imperfection, and uncertainty.6

The methods of attaining to this genuine reality, then, were

extraordinary and purificatory. Dewey finds evidence of such

catharizing methodology in early Greek philosophy:

If one looks at the foundations of the philosophies of Plato and

Aristotle as an anthropologist looks at his material, that is, as cul¬

tural subject-matter, it is clear that these philosophies were

systematizations in rational form of the content of Greek religious and

artistic beliefs. The systematization involved a purification. Logic

provided the patterns to which ultimately real objects had to conform,

while physical science was possible in the degree in which the natural

world, even in its mutabilities, exhibited exemplification of ultimate

immutable rational objects. Thus, along with the elimination of

myths and grosser superstitions, there were set up the ideals of

science and a life of reason. Ends which could justify themselves to

reason were to take the place of custom as the guide of conduct. These

two ideals form a permanent contribution to western civilization.

But . . . they brought with them the . . . notion, which has ruled

philosophy ever since the time of the Greeks, that the office of

knowledge is to uncover the antecedently real, rather than, as is the

case with our practical judgments, to gain the kind of understanding

which is necessary to deal with problems as they arise.7

Hence, for our instrumentalist, metaphysical systems are a

response to a complex of culturally conditioned experiences. The

search for reliable knowledge must rest elsewhere.

Though it was clear to Dewey that metaphysics could be

“reduced” to the perennial quest for certainty, he realized that

instrumentalism must still deal in its own way with questions

traditionally addressed by the former “official philosophy.” The

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

69

questions about what is most important in life and what is most real

could be “explained” by his antimetaphysical reduction but not

answered per se. Dewey, assuming that humans live in and adjust to

their social and physical environment experientially, felt that most

metaphysical questions could be “answered” by distinguishing

between events and objects. These two terms are the key to his

characteristic experimentalist approach to pseudo-problems long

agonized over by “first philosophy.”

Dewey distinguishes between “events” (or “existences”) and

meanings. An event is “ongoing” and its nature is revealed in

experience “as the immediately felt qualities of things.”9 Thus

events are the ingredients of ordinary experience. (Dewey felt that

science also conceptualizes in terms of events.) An object is defined

as an event with meaning. We are asked to consider tables, the

Milky Way, chairs, dogs, electrons, and to appreciate them as

examples of “objects.” Dewey would have us further appreciate that

every event may have numerous explicit meanings with differing

consequences for action. The best example he himself elucidates is

that of paper.

Thus an existence identified as ‘paper/ because the meaning

uppermost at the moment is ‘something to be written upon/ has as

many other explicit meanings as it has important consequences

recognized in the various connective interactions into which it enters.

Since possibilities of conjunction are endless, and since the conse¬

quences of any of them may at some time be significant, its potential

meanings are endless. It signifies something to start a fire with;

something like snow; made of wood-pulp; manufactured for profit;

property in the legal sense; a definite combination illustrative of

certain principles of chemical science; an article the invention of

which has made a tremendous difference in human history; and soon

indefinitely . . . We are saying in effect that its existence is not

exhausted in its being paper.10

In experimentalism, then we are introduced to a tool that can

powerfully respond to the traditive metaphysical conundrums.

Perhaps one example of such a response will suffice. Beginning

with Plato, philosophers of various intellectual persuasions have

attempted to reason with the concept of essence. But for John

Dewey, these philosophers (including some Existentialists with

whom he has important points in common) have been pursuing a

chimera. “Essence,” we are told, “is but a pronounced instance of

meaning; to be partial, and to assign a meaning to a thing as the

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

meaning is but to evince human subjection to bias.”11 Hence, there is

no reason why the traditive explanation of essence as one,

immutable, and constitutive of a thing should exhaust the various

meanings the word may have. The traditive claim for legitimacy

only reflects the interest that the definer happens to have in the

concept. Dewey concludes as follows:

Since the consequences which are liked have an emphatic quality, it

is not surprising that many consequences, even though recognized to

be inevitable, are regarded as if they were accidental and alien. Thus

the very essence of a thing is identified with those consummatory

consequences which the thing has when conditions are felicitous.12

Thus this pragmatist argues that we are in error when we repose in

ideas and concepts; all ideas and meanings are instruments for

dealing with concrete problems. If this be deemed a delitescent

metaphysic, it is at the least an unusually “open” and flexible one.

Nietzsche was never as systematic or methodical as Dewey. Often

his ideas on metaphysics are inconsistent, although we know that

he, like Dewey, was hostile to such traditional notions as substance,

cause, effect, and Being. The difficulty for the scholar wishing to

analyze Nietzsche’s own brand of antimetaphysics is due in part to

his peculiar modus operandi. Unlike Dewey, he never fights

thoroughly or scientifically but rather assumes the role of

intellectual warrior using clubs and sledge-hammers to impress the

truth upon his readers.13 Despite these differences in style, however,

both men were very similar in their anthropological and psy¬

chological analysis of metaphysics.

Nietzsche, like Dewey, felt strongly that the entire metaphysical

enterprise results from a maladjustment to a changing environ¬

ment. “First philosophy” develops when, in the pursuit of security,

man avoids the world of Becoming for an absolute world of Being.

Man seeks the “true world,” a world where there can be no

suffering. Nietzsche believes that the unique psychological mind of

the average human propends toward happiness. This happiness, as

most men see it, can be achieved only in the realm of Being since

change and happiness exclude each other.14 Pain is a leading

inspiration for these fanciful conclusions: at bottom they are wishes

that such a world might exist because of the hatred men feel toward

a world full of suffering. As with Dewey, Nietzsche takes Plato to

task for indulging the “metaphysical need.”

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

71

An artist cannot endure reality; he turns away or back from it: his

earnest opinion is that the worth of a thing consists in that nebulous

residue of it which one derives from colour, form, sound, and thought;

he believes that the more subtle, attenuated, and volatile a thing or a

man becomes, the more valuable he becomes: the less real , the greater

the worth. This is Platonism: but Plato was guilty of yet further

audacity in the matter of turning tables — he measured the degree of

reality according to the degree of value and said: The more there is of

‘idea’ the more there is of Being .... At bottom, Plato, like the artist

he was, placed appearance before Being! and therefore lies and fiction

before truth! unreality before actuality!15

Thus, metaphysics is a sign of “ill health” or at the least a pernicious

weakness in the human psyche. As such, it may be designated as the

“science which treats of the fundamental errors of mankind but

treats of them as if they were fundamental truths.”16 Clearly Dewey

and Nietzsche are in agreement here.

Both philosophers also claimed that metaphysical structures

were too often caused by linguistic traps that tend to rigidify

concepts. Dewey, for example, criticized thinkers for allowing the

concepts of “essence,” “universals,” “appearance,” and “reality” to

become static entities each endowed with but one meaning.

Nietzsche also excoriated the rigid use of such concepts as “true,”

“apparent,” and “reality.”17 Finally, both men felt that the solutions

to many of the old metaphysical puzzles would be forthcoming if the

philosopher accepted man as active and not passively receptive. For

both men, thinking and perceiving are acts of interpretation in

which our desires, memories, and passions do affect the object that

we perceive or contemplate.

Although many thinkers today, particularly the sociologist of

knowledge, take for granted that men’s subjective interests and

expectations influence their perception, Nietzsche was one of the

first to use such information to attack the petrified concepts of

metaphysics. Like Dewey, he argued that once we have achieved a

conceptual framework, we tend to persist in interpreting our

experiences statically even though circumstances inevitably

change. This sort of “laziness” increases when the conceptual

framework is given a linguistic formula. When this occurs, the

concept becomes a closed “self-evident” structure that all ex¬

perience of the world is required to fit.18

To obviate the problems posed by such a conceptology, Nietzsche

would have us remember that meaning (like life) is fluid and can

take almost illimitable forms. The “interested” subjective thinker

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

should become aware of the intellectual cul-de-sac he prepares for

himself when he employs ossified thoughts. For example, Nietzsche

panned Kant’s stringent bifurcation between a “thing-in-itself” and

mere appearance. This stiff ontological schism was absurd because

of the reasons indicated below.

A ‘thing-in-itself’ is just as absurd as a ‘sense-in-itself,’ a ‘meaning-

in-itself.’ There is no such thing as a ‘fact-in-itself,’ for a meaning must

always be given to it before it can become a fact.

The answer to the question, ‘What is that?’ is a process of fixing a

meaning from a different standpoint. The ‘essence,’ the essential

factor, is something which is only seen as a whole in perspective, and

which presupposes a basis which is multifarious. Fundamentally the

question is ‘What is that for me?’ (for us, for everything that lives, etc.,

etc.).

... In short: the essence of a thing is really only an opinion

concerning that ‘thing’ or, better still; ‘it is worth’ is actually what is

meant by ‘it is’ or by ‘that is.’19

For N ietzsche, then, the putative independently existing object that

rigid concepts attempt to mirror is an enduring myth perpetuated

by linguistics and human psychology. An uninterpreted “original”

is never available to an ideally objective mind;20 there are only the

various “meanings” that an existent can have at different times and

for different individuals. For both Dewey and Nietzsche, cognition

of metaphysical absolutes must of necessity be a subjective on-going

process.

Further similarities of thought are evinced in their theories of

truth, although the correspondences are not exact ones. In general,

both men argued against the validity of objective truth and argued

for the beneficial nature of subjective truth, consciously arrived at.

As might be expected, much of what they say about truth follows

from their analysis of “first philosophy.”

John Dewey’s attack on “inexpugnable” objective truth took the

form of criticizing two widely held theories. One of these theories

avers that there is little distinction between truth and reality. In

other words, this Platonic concept claims that truth already exists

(as does reality) whether one comes upon it or not. Attendant to this

belief is the notion that there is but one truth for everyone at any

given time. Dewey answers this by pointing out the obvious

empirical refutation that various people do not attain to the same

truths. Another difficulty with this former hoary argument is that

it finds the subject matter of truth to be reality at large, “a

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

73

metaphysical heaven to be mimeographed at many removes upon a

badly constructed mental carbon copy which yields at best only

fragmentary, blurred, and erroneous copies.”21 The only proper

object of truth is and must be that relationship of organism and

environment in which functioning is most amply and effectively

attained.22 Truth can not be monistic as the Platonist asserts.

The second attack on “objective” verity is against another major

defense: the correspondence theory of truth. This is the idea that

truth is a duplicate or copy of an independent reality. Dewey admits

the innate plausibility of this account because it does distinguish

between truth and reality. Since such a distinction is made, the

correspondence theory does include statements men make about the

world. As such, it involves meaning or discourse and refers to ideas

and their validity. However, Dewey complains, the claim that

veracity equals a one-to-one relation with objective existents opens

up the old (and still unsolved) Descartean problem of dualism.23 The

correspondence theory can not explain how mind, world, and body

interact to produce knowledge and “truth.” He further argues that

even if this theory could explain the ontological abyss between facts

and ideas, we would still not know why the mind should make a

copy of the world at all.24 Hence, Dewey finds two venerable

supports for objective truth to be unconvincing. Not content to

merely analyze, he has synthesized a positive, subjective approach

to truth.

Such an approach he calls the instrumental or consequence

theory. Dewey states that truth or falseness is a property of ideas.

This property is chiefly one of predictions of what consequences will

follow if any given plan of action, communicated by an idea, is

carried out. All ideas are hypotheses continually being verified or

disverified in the light of predictable results. The particular

consequences or results are those in terms of which a problem has

arisen.25 Pretend, for example, that you hear a noise in the street.

The meaning suggested to you is that a street-car has caused the

sound. To test the idea you walk to the window and through

observation organize into a unity elements of existence and

meaning which previously were disconnected. In this way your idea

is rendered true; that which was a proposal or hypothesis is no

longer a mere educated speculation. Apart from your forming and

considering some interpretation, the category of truth has neither

meaning nor existence. Your idea, in other words, had to be acted

upon to become a truth.26 As Dewey concludes about his “non¬

objective” theory,

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Truth ... is a just name for an experienced relation among the

things of experience: that sort of relation in which intents are

retrospectively viewed from the standpoint of the fulfillment which

they secure through their own natural operation or incitement. Thus

the experimental theory explains directly and simply the absolutistic

tendency to translate concrete true things into the general

relationship, Truth, and then to hypostatize this abstraction into

identity with real being, Truth per se and in se, of which all

transistory things and events— that is, all experienced realities — are

only shadowy futile approximations.27

In conclusion, truth belongs to humans actively engaged in a

changing world. Verity, as Dewey sees it, is a satisfactory response

to a problem originating in the world. Because truths are not

monolithic or fixed in a rigid matrix forever, they can be

transformed by the subjective, interested thinker who must

consciously and continuously strive to cope with his environment.

Since there is no final and absolute truth, there can be no further

test of veracity other than its ability to work and to organize facts.28

Objective truth, moreover, must be recognized as yet another

symptom of man’s quixotism and quest for security; subjective

truth must be recognized as successful and dynamic “inter¬

pretations” proposed tentatively by adaptive and creative in¬

dividuals.

Nietzsche would appear to agree fully with the above conclusions

of Dewey. He, too, devastated pretensions to objective truth by

revealing the psychology on which they are based and the thin

reasoning which disguises them. He too relativized truth to a

context of person, world, and problem. And he too, though less

carefully and systematically, posited a subjective brand of truth to

replace impossible, surreal objectivity. N ietzsche is perhaps most

effective in analyzing the psychological bases of cognition and

truth.

Even the greatest philosophers, we are told, think that they can

achieve the Truth through elaborate reasoning. But the theories of

men like Spinoza, Wolff, Descartes, and Plato are only fatuous

efforts to justify the beliefs they hold on instinctive or pre-reflective

grounds. Behind even the purest logic, there are subjective

prejudices and physiological demands.29 Far from being dis¬

interested and objective, Nietzsche sees the intellect as the

instrument of something nonintellectual;

The unconscious disguising of physiological requirements under

the cloak of the objective, the ideal, the purely spiritual, is carried on

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

75

to an alarming extent, and I have often enough asked myself, whether

on the whole, philosophy hitherto has not generally been merely an

interpretation of the body, and a misunderstanding of the body.30

The concept of transcendent and final truth must, then, be an

illusion.

In addition, Nietzsche uses an epistemological argument to

attack any claims that “objective” truth can be supported by a

strictly empirical outlook. His argument is that we have the kinds of

sensations and perceptions we do because of their “utility.” The

product of our senses reflects our values, and the senses are

pragmatic just as our conceptual abilities are. He denies, further¬

more, that our sensations and perceptions are uninfluenced by the

concepts and prejudgments which we all hold; our conceptual life

mandates, in large part, our sensory life.31 Hence, in contraposition

to empiricists such as Locke, the senses cannot absolutely and

objectively verify the concepts we may hold as the senses are pre¬

influenced by beliefs and values. Nietzsche tells us that “faith is the

primal beginning even in every sense impression.”32 Consequently,

the quest for the Platonic realist version of truth as static and

independent of humans may not rest on our conceptual or empirical

abilities. No “truth” about the “world of appearances” or

phenomena can be any more than a perspectival interpretation.

Finally, Nietzsche shares Dewey’s odium for the Kantian

noumenon or absolute “thing-in-itself” (or “Truth -in-itself”) which

so many thinkers for centuries had pursued. Nietzsche in his

writings not only denies that our knowledge could transcend the

limitations of the senses, but also writes that the very concept of

noumenon which we seek to know is an ignis fatuus. First, he offers

the now familiar psychological explanation (and reduction) of the

origin of the notion: the realm of absolute reality was concocted by

weak intellects who do not dare to live and adjust in a changing

world. The quest for the fictional transcendent and inaccessible

noumenon serves as an escape mechanism for such weak spirits.33

Secondly, he finds the Kantian belief in noumenon useless and

superfluous and therefore refuted.34 Although many reasons are

given for the contradictory character of an objective realm of truth,

N ietzsche’s greatest complaint is that it makes no difference for our

quotidian engaged life. With Dewey, he believes that nothing

possesses a constitution in itself apart from active interpretation

and subjectivity. As Nietzsche understands it,

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Every centre of energy has its point of view of the whole of the

remainder of the world — that is to say, its perfectly definite valuation,

its mode of action, its mode of resistance. The ‘world of appearance’ is

thus reduced to a specific kind of action on the world proceeding from

a centre.

But there is no other kind of action: and the ‘world’ is only a word for

the collective play of these actions. Reality consists precisely in this

particular action and reaction of every isolated factor against the

whole.35

Consequently, there can be no truth apart from the subjective

engaged thinker.

Although denying the possibility of inaccessible verity, Nietzsche

proposed that a subjective truth could yet be very instrumental to

the man who has the courage to live with perspectivism. Inter¬

pretative truths, the only ones we are really capable of, can still give

us practical guidance in life. Subjective truth is or can be a useful

tool. It can observe how elements in the world affect us, noting their

actual benevolence or malevolence, and can draw up from this very

personal angle of vision a picture or scheme of the world. With the

aid of ideas we can make our way through life’s mazes with more

confidence because we can handle the empirical world more

easily.36 Those ideas which have life-preserving consequences

should be labeled as “truths”, while ideas which decrease our

chances of coping with the environment should be abandoned as

“lies.” Truth is human and only individuals who possess it give it

importance. With Dewey, Nietzsche concludes that this importance

lies in our confrontation with a problematic world. For both men,

there is no shame in the fact that we do not have entry into the fictive

mansion of static and transcendent verity. Alethiology belongs only

and fully to mankind.

The last general area of substantive agreement lies in their

axiology. Although their ideas do not correspond exactly in this

field of inquiry or any other, we can discern important similarities.

Dewey and Nietzsche tended to understand value and experience as

inextricably mixed; for both discovered that value cannot exist

independently of nature. Lastly, they thought that what was

valuable was a practical and not a metaphysical problem.

“Solutions” for traditional axiological questions rested in an

empirical methodology and were always considered tentative by

our two philosophers.

John Dewey’s discussions of value parallel his writings on

philosophia prima; he characteristically saw most of the traditional

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

77

questions about values as mere pseudo-problems. According to this

pragmatist, too many philosophers have agonized over the “status”

of value or about the rank of values in some transempirical

hierarchy. That these false problems seemed real to metaphysicians

was because of the ancient search for certainty and security. The

conatus to build a “realm of values” which would contain especially

sublime goods caused the nettling split between this world of

shadows and the “real” world of sempiternal worth. With this

division the philosopher has a new problem with which to deal: what

is the relationship between such different domains? Is the

transcendent domain that of ultimate Being from which the life we

know is but an unfortunate fall? Or is the world of “real” value a

mere subjective creation of minds desperate to order their world, as

William of Ockham averred?37 The metaphysicians who select the

first alternative usually spend the rest of their intellectualizingon

determining the special and fixed order of values in the transcen¬

dent realm; their concern for actual choice in mundane life is

neglected. Other scholars choose the second alternative, thus

rendering values completely subjective and therefore unable to

provide a criterion for successful choice among current options.

Both choices are meaningless because the problem is arbitrary.38

Characteristically, Dewey's approach to axiology was empirical

and antimetaphysical.

What then is a proper approach to axiology? Dewey's theory is, as

might now be anticipated, existential in that he emphasizes the

concrete context in which value judgments proceed. Humans are

continually faced with situations in which lie conflicts and they are

forced to decide which course of action should be pursued. The

fundamental question of an involved individual is not what is the

“eternal good” that he should emulate but rather what should he do?

Typically, value is rendered dynamic and experiential.

To elucidate the process of valuation Dewey distinguishes two

meanings of “to value.” First, like Ralph Barton Perry, Dewey says

we value something when we take an interest in it; to value in this

manner signifies an immediate experience. However, such a

rendition of value is incomplete as a prizing in itself does not specify

any course of action; it provides no means of determining what the

consequences of pursuing it will be. Therefore, Dewey advances an

additional and vital meaning for value.39 The alternate meaning of

“to value” means to judge or to evaluate. Clearly, it is a process

ending in a value judgment. It is an endless proceeding just as

change in our environment is perpetual.40

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Dewey suggests that this process of valuation is similar in many

ways to scientific judgment.41 Valuation arises when there is

conflict within the course of experience and we must attempt to

understand the nature of the conflict, suggest various alternative

actions, and judge the consequences of each. As in science the

existential results of a given course of an action can verify or

disprove a given value judgment. Also, as in science, the leading

principles used in a given valuation are derived from past

experience.42 Hence, valuation proceeds during conflicts of our

immediate values and of what we directly prize. It is a reflective

process in which we must decide what we should desire. In making a

value judgment we ascribe worth to something rather than merely

describe a hierarchy of values.43 To repeat, “value” for Dewey is a

dynamic idea.

Significantly, Dewey argued that values are not greatly different

from other facts in the world. There are initial enjoyings just as

there are initial impressions of physical objects. Insofar as and only

as long as the initial enjoyings are enjoyed, they are good. Naturally

experience may come to show some initial enjoyments as deceptive

just as it may find some immediate sense experiences deceptive.

Just as initial sense data that survive the subsequent empirical

testing become “facts” so immediate enjoyments that survive the

same test become values.44

Finally, Dewey’s axiology includes the notion that values are as

unstable as clouds; we can never be sure that what we value as good

will continue to be desirable. Good things vanish not only with

alterations in the environment but with changes in ourselves.45 Be

that as it may, knowledge that a particular object or experience is

good— that is, it has survived the best available examinations— will

have to be sufficient. Such knowledge will be a reasonable rule for

directing behavior. In any case, it is far more usable and

trustworthy than depending on revelation or waiting for the

philosopher-king to re-enter the reechy cave. The rational,

courageous man, Dewey reminds us, will face up to the lack of

absolute merit and will strive to improve criteria for choice. In a

world of becoming, any other approach would be fatal.

Since it is relative to the intersection in existence of hazard and rule,

of contingency and order, faith in a wholesale and final triumph is

fantastic. But some procedure has to be tried; for life itself is a

sequence of trials. Carelessness and routine, Olympian aloofness,

secluded contemplation are themselves choices. To claim that

intelligence is a better method than its alternatives, authority,

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

79

imitation, caprice and ignorance, prejudice and passion, is hardly an

excessive claim. These procedures have been tried and have worked

their will. The result is not such as to make it clear that the method of

intelligence, the use of science in criticizing and recreating the casual

goods of nature into intentional and conclusive goods of art, the union

of knowledge and values in production, is not worth trying.46

Perhaps this implies an ability only found in the strangest kind of

individual, but Dewey believed it an ability that any reasonable

man could possess.

The idea that values are by and for men appealed also to the mind

of Nietzsche. He states often that there is no absolute, self-existent,

supreme standard of valuation distinct from volition.47 Not

surprisingly he attacks any belief concerning independent,

objective merit as yet another sign of mediocrity and bestial fear in

the face of relentless change. Men, as is the consuetude, gladly

accept the proposition that values have an independent origin and

sustenance.48 In addition to this familiar posture, he also asserts that

the only world which exists for the individual is the empirical one.

For the reason discussed above there can be no Kantian thing-in-

itself or in this case value-in-itself. For example, Christian theology

is wrong most egregiously because it demands complete acceptance

of an empyrean realm of objective value. As Nietzsche puts it,

In Christianity neither morality nor religion has even a single point

of contact with reality. Nothing but imaginary causes . . . nothing but

imaginary effects . . . intercourse between imaginary beings ... an

imaginary natural science ... an imaginary psychology.

This world of pure fiction is vastly inferior to the world of dreams

insofar as the latter mirrors reality, whereas the former falsifies,

devalues, and negates reality. Once the concept of ‘nature’ had been

invented as the opposite of ‘God,’ ‘natural’ had to become a synonym of

‘reprehensible’: this whole world of fiction is rooted in hatred of the

natural ... it is the expression of a profound vexation at the sight of

reality.49

No values can exist outside of the phenomenal world and man’s

active confrontation with it.

Another major reason why Nietzsche refused to grant values an

individual ontological status is his much discussed theory of

psychology and morals. He deflated the claims of absolute value

systems by arguing that such systems are actually based on human

psychological propensities and should be adjudged as artificial self-

justifying superstructures (Nietzsche sounds more like Pareto than

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Dewey here). The desire for something is the primal ground that

“independent” ethical systems cover, consciously or otherwise.50

N ietzsche says that he can account for the differences in valuational

constructions whereas seekers after absolute and fixed systems can

not. He tells us that there are as many moralities or values as there

are human psychological desires because all moralities are tied to

them. In his book, Human, All to Human he gives numerous

examples of values which are tied to human needs; these needs have,

in effect, “chosen” a moral rationalization in order to realize a goal.

In one such example he informs the reader that the quality of pity

we are given to admire is not disinterested:

All those who are not sufficiently masters of themselves and do not

know morality as a self-control and self-conquest continuously

exercised in things great and small, unconsciously come to glorify the

good, compassionate, benevolent impulses of that instinctive morality

which has no head, but seems merely to consist of a heart and helpful

hands. It is to their interest even to cast suspicion upon a morality of

reason and to set up the other as the sole morality.51

In another example, N ietzsche exposes one instance of philanthropy

as also related to ulterior motives:

Why beggars still live— If all alms were given only out of

compassion, the whole tribe of beggars would long since have died of

starvation . . . The greatest of almsgivers is cowardice.52

Hence, all morality is subjective and interlocked inextricably

with secular experiences. Nietzsche, it should be noted, did not

deplore this fact as such because he claims that apart from the

involved subject, no value could exist. With Dewey, he deplores

those who would not have the intellectual integrity to face the

ultimate connection between value and experience. For both men,

valuation becomes most meaningful when employed consciously by

individuals engaged in an active confrontation with a changing

world.

Like Dewey, Nietzsche advanced a reconstruction of a sounder

ethic which would be based on subjectivity. The function of anyone

courageous enough to face existential connection between

psychological inclinations and value is to create or to will a value

system which corresponds to the needs of the subject. The most

fundamental instinct which requires realization is the “will to

power” or the desire of the subject to control his personal and

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

81

external world. This presupposition, roughly similar to Dewey’s

belief that humans seek to form a propitious environment for their

actions, provides the substructure for any realistic value. If

Nietzsche is correct, we can call an event or an experience

“valuable” only if it aids us in preserving and furthering our life and

our ability to successfully manipulate the world.53 No ethics can

subsist independently of individuals in posssession (or possessed) of

a subjective consciousness which above all includes a drive of

“power” striving for self-realization. Hence values are always to be

judged by their relations to active subjects.

Furthermore, Nietzsche agrees that values are transient and a

continual challenge to a person. He too feels that an ethic is dynamic

and process oriented. An engaged subject must repeatedly

experiment with values in order to increase his ability to “build” a

world in a favorable image, i.e. to facilitate the realization of

personal strength and power.54 Those goods which are instrumental

in furthering one’s capacity to realize personal goals in the world

should be retained until better goods are discovered through

experimentation. Significantly, there is no ethical repose here. As

the world alters, so must our means to achieving our goals. It is

indeed even possible that the interpretation of our instinctive needs

and their attendant values will be transmogrified in the future. The

rational and practical thinker will accept this possibility and yet

affirm the existence of a meaningful ethical system. Such an

individual would have

the means of enduring it: the transvaluation of all values. Pleasure no

longer to be found in certainty, but in uncertainty; no longer 'cause

and effect,’ but continual creativeness; ... no longer the modest

expression 'it is only subjective’ but ‘it is all our work! let us be proud

of it.’55

Thus for Nietzsche, as for Dewey, the best valuations we can have

are grounded in humanity. However, far from being an excuse for

an aporetic nihilism, this fact can be a beginning for a new and more

efficacious concept of value.

The conclusion to this comparative study should not imply that

Dewey and Nietzsche possessed identical thoughts, attitudes, or

styles of expression. In regard to the three areas of interest

discussed above, the major difference between the two men was

attitudinal. They particularly differed in their emotional response

toward and expression of the over-arching discovery that life is

insecure. Nietzsche’s style of expression was, characteristically,

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

metaphysical, eristic, and idiosyncratic. His emotional reaction was

typically (particularly as seen in his later writings) as semi-

hysterical affirmation of life and meaning despite its horror and

objective purposelessness. Paroxysmally he urges us to bite the

snake of nihilism that crawls into our throats, while we wax

complacent in our fictional metaphysical explanations.™ In

contradistinction, Dewey’s communication of the ground of

metaphysics was calm, scholarly, and exact. Since he did not feel an

abyss within himself he was not personally involved with the threat

of insecurity. As was his wont, he viewed man’s commerce with

insecurity as a physician might.57 Perhaps he also felt that the

“cure” for insecurity (i.e. the use of instrumentalism to effect

proximate solutions) was not overly difficult; no overman would be

necessary to implement a realistic axiology or alethiology. In any

case, no desperate ophiophagous measures need be taken to create a

solid niche for mankind.

Be this as it may, the discovery of important generic cor¬

respondences of substantial thought in Dewey, an American, and

Nietzsche, a German, forces us to broaden the view we take of

formal instrumentalism. The similarities in their ideas on the

nature of metaphysics, truth, and value are no less remarkable for

their developing independently of one another. Indeed, their

ideational correspondences provide an eloquent instance of con¬

gruence in Hesperian thought. Nietzsche’s ideas should, then, be

added to the conceptual Euro-American community in which the

Experimentalism of Dewey grew and prospered. The intellectual

historian, in a continuing effort to obtain full understanding of the

possible novelty of “Dewey’s theory,” should not then ignore the

reality of shared beliefs between two of the Occident’s finest

thinkers.

NOTATIONS

Uohn Higham, Intellectual History and its Neighbors, Jour. Hist. Ideas,

15: 3 (June, 1954), 341.

2W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and

Sartre . (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc., 1969). p. 281.

3John Dewey, “From Absolutism to Experimentalism,” In Contemporary

American Philosophers, George P. Adams and William P. Montague (Eds.),

Vol. 2. (New York: Macmillan Co., 1930), pp. 13-27.

4Arthur 0. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being (Cambridge: Harvard

University Press, 1936), p. 26.

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

83

5John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and

Company, 1929), p. 3.

6George Geiger, John Dewey in Perspective (New York: Oxford

University Press, 1958), p. 11.

7John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and

Company, 1929), pp. 16-17.

8John Dewey, How We Think (New York: D. C. Heath and Company,

1909), pp. 12-13.

9John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and

Company, Inc., 1925), pp. iv-v.

l0Ibid ., pp. 318-320.

uIbid ., pp. 182-183.

l2Ibid ., p. 183.

13M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.

Fisher Unwin, 1908), p.814.

14Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power , translated by Anthony

Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p.88.

Mbid., pp. 74-75.

16Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All-Too Human, translated by Helen

Zimmern (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 33.

17Friedrich Nietzsche, “Twilight of the Idols.” In The Portable Nietzsche,

edited by W. Kaufman (New York: Viking Press, 1954), p. 484.

18Friedrich Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense.” In

The Portable Nietzsche, edited by W. Kaufman (New York: Viking Press,

1954), p. 46.

19Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.

Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), pp. 64-65.

20Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals, translated by Horace

Samuel (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 152.

21John Dewey, “Truth and Reality.” In The Philosophy of John Dewey,

edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1928), pp.

188-189.

22 Ibid., p. 190.

23 John Dewey, “The Correspondence Theory of Truth is Inadequate.” In

The Philosophy of John Dewey, edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry

Holt and Company, 1928), p. 192.

24George Geiger, John Dewey in Perspective (New York: Oxford

University Press, 1958), p. 72.

2Hbid., p. 73.

26 John Dewey, “The Instrumental Theory of Truth,” In The Philosophy of

John Dewey, edited by Joseph Ratner (New York: Henry Holt and

Company, 1928), pp. 199-200.

27John Dewey, “The Experience of Knowing.” In The Philosophy of John

Dewey, Volume I, edited by John McDermott (New York: G. P. Putnam’s

Sons, 1973), p.192.

84

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

28Morton White, The Origin of Dewey's Instrumentalism (New York:

Octagon Books, 1964), p. 82.

29M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.

Fisher Unwin, 1908), p. 214.

3,)Friedrich Nietzshe, The Joyful Wisdom, translated by Thomas

Common (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 5.

31 John T. Wilcox, Truth and Value in Nietzsche: A Study of His Metaethics

and Epistemology (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1974), p.

149.

32Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.

Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 25.

33F riedrich N ietzsche, “The Antichrist.” In The Portable Nietzsche, edited

by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press, 1954), pp. 576-577.

34Friedrich Nietzsche, “Twilight of the Gods.” In “The Portable Nietzsche,

edited by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press, 1954), p. 485.

35Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony M.

Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 71.

36William M. Salter, Nietzsche the Thinker: A Study (New York:

Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1968), p. 52.

37John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and

Company, 1925), p. 394.

™Ibid., p. 395.

39James Gouinlock, John Dewey's Philosophy of Value (New York:

Humanities Press, 1972), p.128.

40John Dewey, The Objects of Valuation, Jour. Philos. 15, 1918, p. 257.

41John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty (New York: Minton, Balch and

Company, 1929), pp. 258-259.

42John Dewey, On Experience, Nature, and Freedom, edited by Richard

J . Bernstein (New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1960), p. xxxiv.

43Ibid., p. xxxv.

44 W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and

Sartre (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., 1969), p. 305.

45John Dewey, Experience and Nature (New York: W. W. Norton and

Company, Inc., 1925), p. 399.

46Ibid., p. 437.

47M. A. Mugge, Friedrich Nietzsche: His Life and Work (London: T.

Fisher Unwin, 1908), p. 306.

48Friedrich N ietzsche, “The Antichrist.” In The Portable Nietzsche, edited

by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press), p. 611.

4Hbid., pp. 581-582.

50Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, translated by Paul Cohn

(New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), pp. 226-227.

5lIbid., p. 222.

52Ibid., p. 317.

53John Wilcox, Truth and Value in Nietzsche (Ann Arbor: University of

1977]

Castle — Dewey and Nietzsche

85

Michigan Press, 1974), p. 198.

54Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, translated by M. Cowan

(Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1955), pp. 100-101.

55Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, translated by Anthony

Ludovici (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1964), p. 424.

56Friedrich Nietzsche, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra.” In The Portable

Nietzsche, edited by Walter Kaufmann (New York: The Viking Press,

1954), p. 271.

57W. T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy: Kant to Wittgenstein and

Sartre (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., 1969), p. 291.

THERMAL PLUMES ALONG THE WISCONSIN

SHORE OF LAKE MICHIGAN

R. P. Madding

F. L. Scarpace

T. Green III

University Wisconsin

Madison

ABSTRACT

The surface temperature characteristics of the thermal plumes

associated with Wisconsin power plants on Lake Michigan were

measured by an aircraft mounted, thermal line scanner. Ap¬

proximately 100 images of each of the heated water discharges were

acquired and calibrated during a two year project. A pictorial

representation of more than 300 of these thermal images are

included in the report. The use of these images by the Wisconsin

Department of Natural Resources for regulatory purposes is

discussed. Recommendations for future operational remote sensing

of thermal discharges are made.

INTRODUCTION

Over the past decade, a good deal of both scientific and political

controversy has centered on the use of water taken from the Great

Lakes to cool large condensers associated with steam-electric power

plants. Great Lakes water is abundant, and the cooling process

relatively inexpensive. However, the water is warmed from 10F to

40F before being returned to the lake. This warmed water forms a

“thermal plume:” a body of water distinguishable from the

surrounding, natural lake water by reason of its increased

temperature.

Thermal plumes may harm the ecosystem in the nearshore area.

Fish behavior is changed noticeably by the plume.1, 2, 3 Benthic life,

including fish eggs, cannot escape the higher temperatures. While

such effects can be loosely estimated from laboratory and

theoretical studies, field measurements must form the basis of any

meaningful assessments of environmental impact at a particular

location. Since the amount of warm water in a thermal plume must

be a key parameter in measuring and understanding the plume’s

effect, the plume size and shape should be determined as part of the

86

1977]

Madding et al. - Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

87

measurement program. Because the surface area of the plume is

often larger than the deeper warm water area, aerial remote¬

sensing techniques, combined with a few suitable temperature

measurements taken in the water, can be used in both monitoring

and assessing the effects of thermal plumes.4

The thermal plumes associated with five large power plants along

the Wisconsin shore of Lake Michigan and one power plant in Green

Bay were studied. The description is designed to give an overview of

water-surface temperatures in the vicinity of these power plants,

together with a feeling for the average sizes and shapes of the

plumes and their variations with important environmental

parameters. The more technical supporting data are referenced

where this is appropriate.

BACKGROUND

Studies of thermal plumes on Lake Michigan before 1972 were

mainly performed by the Argonne National Laboratory, and by

various university groups interested in particular aspects of the

plumes. In 1972, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources

(DNR) issued a directive requiring that all important aspects of the

thermal plumes associated with heat discharges greater than 500 x

106 Btus per hour* be studied intensively over all seasons of the

year.5 The results of these studies were to be used by DNR to guide

the establishment of “mixing zones” within which the thermal

water-quality standards set forth in the Wisconsin Administrative

Code (section NR 102) would not apply.

Three power companies were affected by this directive:

Wisconsin Electric Power Company (WEPC), Wisconsin Public

Service Corporation (WPSC), and Wisconsin Power and Light

(WPL).

The power plants exceeding the heat-discharge minimum are:

Oak Creek (1670 MW**; WEPC) Edgewater (477 MW; WPL)

Point Beach (1048 MW; WEPC) Pulliam (393 MW, WPSC)

Kewaunee (540 MW; WPSC, WPL) Lakeside (311 MW, WEPC)

*A Btu is a British Thermal Unit: The heat required to raise the

temperature of one pound of water IF.

**Peak electrical generating capacity in megawatts (MW).

88

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The locations of these plants are shown in Fig. 1. The Kewaunee

plant came on line quite recently, and plume studies at that plant

are not very extensive.

One outcome of the DNR directive was a grant from the three

power companies to the University of Wisconsin Institute for

Environmental Studies, under which the university was to conduct

an extended series of aerial remote sensing missions to measure the

surface characteristics of the above-mentioned thermal plumes.

One hundred “thermal scans” (see below) were to be taken of each

plume, over a study period of at least one year.

Each thermal scan provides a picture of the surface character of a

thermal plume at an instant in time. A large number of these scans

provides a “plume climatology,” which shows how each thermal

plume usually looks and how it changes with variations in both load

and weather conditions.

The resources to conduct this program came from a number of

groups:

i. The DNR provided the aircraft and flight crew, and much of

the funding for data analysis.

ii. The three power companies provided much of the remote

L

A

K

E

M

C

H

G

A

N

FIGURE 1. Route flown for routine thermal plume monitoring.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

89

sensing equipment, partial maintenance funding for the

aircraft, and surface temperature measurements during the

thermal scanning missions.

iii. The University provided experienced equipment operators

and the data recording equipment, and performed the data

analysis. Much of the support for this work came indirectly

from NASA, NSF (RANN), the Sea Grant Program, and the

University of Wisconsin-Madison Graduate School.

As the scanning missions were being performed, consulting firms

and other groups were sampling both the subsurface temperatures

associated with the thermal plumes, and the effect of these elevated

temperatures on lake biota. Similar work, but along more scientific

lines, was carried out by Argonne National Laboratories, and by

various University groups under the Sea Grant Program and the

Office of Water Resources Research.

THERMAL SCANNING: A Brief Introduction

All bodies radiate energy. Broadly speaking, this energy varies

with body temperature, and with the molecular character of the

body (its “emissivity”). Water is relatively cool (compared to the sun,

for example). Because of this, the radiated energy is almost entirely

in wavelengths long compared to those that the eye can detect.

Because of absorption, the energy radiated into the atmosphere

from a body of water comes only from the water surface. Water has

an emissivity which is always very close to one, so that the radiated

energy is proportional to the temperature of the water surface.

Certain devices react to this long-wave radiation. For example, a

detector made of mercury, cadmium, and telluride which is kept

extremely cold will generate a voltage roughly proportional to the

amount of long-wave energy falling on it. Thus, it generates an

electrical signal which is proportional to surface-water

temperatures.

The detector is mounted in an aircraft, and used in conjunction

with a set of mirrors which collect the radiation emitted from a spot

on the water surface and focus it on the detector. (Fig. 3) The

mirrors rotate so that the spot sweeps out a path perpendicular to

the direction of flight. The assemblage, together with the associated

motors, electronics, and a detector cooling system is a thermal

scanner. (Fig. 2)

The signal from the detector is recorded on magnetic tape, which

can be played back later through a special film-maker to give a TV-

90

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

like picture or “thermal scan” of the temperature of the water

surface. It is important to remember that light and dark tones in

such a “thermal image” correspond only to water surface

temperature. The shore usually appears much different than the

water surface because of a large difference in emissivity.

Throughout this paper, light tones on the thermal image denote

warm surface water, and dark tones cool surface water. The

maximum water-temperature difference is usually about 20F.

Because of atmospheric effects and problems associated with

radiative devices within the scanner used to obtain reference

temperatures, thermal images can only rarely be interpreted to

water

FIGURE 2. Block Diagram of a Thermal Scanner

FIGURE 3. Airborne Thermal Scanning

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

91

give actual water-surface temperatures unless at least two different

water temperatures are measured by more direct methods (eg, with

a standard thermometer). With these, the entire image can be

calibrated so that the temperature at any point on the water surface

is known. Similarly, one should know the important physical

parameters governing the character of the thermal plume, in order

to rationally interpret the thermal image. The plant load, the

pumping rate of cooling water, surface wind, waves, and nearshore

lake currents are usually the most important factors.

Measurements such as those described above are often called

“ground truth.” A more complete description of the ground truth

used to calibrate a thermal image is given by Scarpace et al.4

THE OPERATION

(a) The Scanning Flights

The flight path normally used to monitor the Lake Michigan

thermal plumes is shown in Fig. 1. The flight lines were always

straight in the vicinity of the power plants. They were usually

positioned so that from 10% to 20% of the thermal image was of the

shore; thus the image could be easily scaled during data analysis.

The flying height was generally chosen to maximize thermal detail,

while still including the entire plume in the thermal image, and was

almost always between 2,000 feet and 5,000 feet above the lake.

Scanning was done only near the power plants unless interesting

thermal structure such as lake upwelling was noticed at other

locations.

The flight line shown in Fig. 1 takes about 2.5 hours to complete.

Occasionally, two scans of each plume were obtained by returning

southward along the lake shore instead of returning directly to

Madison. This altered flight line took about 3.5 hr. Before a flight

was begun weather conditions had to be suitable over all the power

plants. Occasionally conditions worsened during a flight, forcing

part of the flight to be cancelled.

(b) On Site Measurements

Shortly before takeoff each power company was notified of the

expected flyover time at each plant. The companies relayed this

information to the individual plants, and ground truth data were

usually taken within a half hour of the actual flyover. This

information generally included two water-surface temperatures,

pumping rate and estimates of wind and surface waves at the site.

92

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The type of temperature measurements at each plant varied

according to the degree of involvement in the project and the nature

of the power plant intake and discharge. Details for each plant are

given in Fig. 4.

Oak Creek: Bucket* temperatures taken at points A and B

provided the necessary scanner calibration points. Point A is near

one of the subsurface discharges and point B is near the cooling

water intake. At times the temperatures in these areas were not

uniform over one scan spot size. This non-uniformity was typical of

shore based efforts; the problem could only be alleviated by

measuring offshore temperatures from a boat. The submerged

discharges add to the problem.

Lakeside: Bucket temperatures were taken in the south discharge

channel at point G and at point H. At times the temperature at point

H was not uniform over one scan spot size. The water in the surface

discharge canal was well mixed and gave good results.

Edgewater: Recorded thermocouple data provided the thermal

scanner calibration temperatures at Edgewater. One subsurface

intake and two surface discharge temperatures were monitored.

Unit 3 and 4 discharge temperatures were recorded at the

discharge and at the condenser for each unit. Unit 1 and 2 discharge

temperatures were recorded at the condenser for each unit.

Occasionally, the discharge temperature for units 3 and 4 disagreed

by several degrees F from the weighted average of the individual

condenser temperatures. WPL personnel indicated that this was

due to recirculating some discharge water through the intake to

prevent freezing. Since units 1 and 2 were not used for recirculation

it was assumed that the averaged condenser discharge

temperatures represented the surface discharge temperature at

point Y. The temperature monitored at point Z (Units 3 and 4) was

used for that discharge. The weighted average from units 3 and 4

was used only when data were not available at point Z. The weighted

average was not used when the possibility of recirculation existed.

Where possible the two calibration points were taken at points Z and

Y with the intake, X, as a check.

Point Beach : Near the time of flyover power plant personnel,

using the bucket technique, measured the temperature at points J

See Page 96 for calibration.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

93

and L (Fig.4). Usually these two temperatures were sufficient for

scanner calibration. When unit 1 (point J) was down, the south

discharge temperature differed little from the temperature at L.

For these occurrences the recorded discharge temperature for unit

2 (point K) was used as the high temperature calibration point.

Tests on unit 1 indicated negligible temperature drop from the

recorded discharge temperature and the bucket temperature at

point J. Thus point K is shown at the end of the unit 2 outfall. Usually

the temperature at point L was uniform over at least one scan spot

94

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

size. This seems fortuitous; frequently one must go offshore in a boat

to find a large enough area of uniform temperature for scanner

calibration.

Pulliam: Thermal scanner calibration temperatures were

measured by recording thermocouples at points E (intake) and D

(discharge). The highest temperature seen by the scanner in the

discharge canal was taken as representative of the thermocouple

temperature. The temperature at point E is a weighted average of

the temperatures at the north and south water intakes. The average

depends on the units operating and their relative location to each

intake. According to power plant personnel, the amount of water

drawn through each intake cannot be readily determined.

Therefore, analysis of Pulliam scanner data was necessarily limited

to those occasions when the north and south intake temperatures

were approximately equal. The temperature change from the

surface water near the intake to point E is also unknown.

(c) Equipment

Only limited descriptions of the equipment used are given below.

More detailed descriptions can be found in the manufacturers’

technical specifications. All equipment in the aircraft was checked

out in operation before each flight. The aircraft used to obtain the

thermal images in this report is the Wisconsin Department of

Natural Resources DC-3 . The DC-3 is relatively large compared to

most aircraft used for thermal scanning, and can fly quite slowly. A

well tuned area navigation system together with a downward¬

looking TV viewer which can be monitored by the pilot allowed us to

set up and easily reproduce an optimum flight line over each

thermal plume. It would be extremely difficult to find an aircraft

more suitable to the scanning operation.

Two thermal scanners were used in this work. A prototype Texas

Instruments RS-300 scanner was used in the initial stages, but was

replaced by a more accurate Texas Instruments RS-1SA scanner in

late May, 1973. This latter scanner is electronically roll stabilized,

and is thus much lighter. Its mercury-cadmium telluride detector is

cooled by liquid nitrogen, and is sensitive to radiation in the 8-14

micron waveband.

The signal from the scanner was displayed, recorded, and

reconstructed for analysis using the four devices shown

schematically in Fig. 5.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

95

t i

Visicorder

Film

Maker

FIGURE 5. Data Acquisition and Display

(a) Oscilloscope: Tektronix 5B10N

This displayed the voltage trace resulting from one sweep of the

scan spot across the water surface. It allowed the scanner operator to

monitor the signal from the detector both before and after being

recorded, and to check the aircraft flight line.

(b) Tape Recorder: Sangamo Saber III (FM)

The Saber III is a wideband group II FM instrument. It has a

frequency response of DC to 250 kiloherz at a record speed of 60 inches

per second. The signal to noise ratio at this speed is 33 decibels. The

raw data are recorded in an analog made on this instrument in the

aircraft. The tape recorder is then returned to the laboratory and

used with the analog tapes to produce film imagery and digital

computer compatible tapes.

(c) Visicorder: Honeywell 1856 fiber-optics cathode-ray tube

visicorder oscillograph. This was used with nonpermanent light-

sensitive visicorder paper to produce a crude thermal image a few

seconds after the aircraft passed over a plume, with which to insure

proper coverage of each plume. This imagery was not used for data

analysis.

The visicorder was also used to make thermal imagery on film from

the data on magnetic tape. The quality of this imagery, however, was

below that obtained with the film-maker discussed below.

(d) Film-maker: Texas Instruments RFR-70

This instrument makes thermal imagery on standard 70 mm

photographic film from a magnetic tape. The result is a negative from

which photographic prints can be made. The imagery is corrected for

the inherent tangential distortion of the scanner. All imagery in this

paper was made with the RFR-70.

(e) Computers:

The analog imagery was converted to digital form on a PDP-11

computer. The digital tapes were then interactively processed on a

PEP 801 remote terminal connected with the UW-MSN Univac 1110

computer.6

96

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

DATA ANALYSIS

Calibrating the Thermal Imagery

The quality of the thermal scanner data is limited mainly by the

quality of the ground-truth temperatures. We must first relate the

scanner output voltage, converted to digital values, to the water-

surface temperature. Experimental tests and radiation theory have

shown that, for the temperature range in which we are working, the

scanner output voltage V is very closely related to the absolute

water temperature T (in degrees Kelvin) by the equation:

V = A + B T4

Here, A and B are constants, which are ascertained from the two

ground-truth temperatures.4 This equation is accurate to within

0.1 F if the two ground-truth temperatures span the water-surface

temperatures range. A cooling-water outfall temperature and an

ambient (i.e., outside the plume) lake temperature usually meet this

criterion. Also, the parcel of water used as a ground-truth “point”

should be isothermal over an area somewhat greater than that of the

scan spot, due to the response time of the scanner electronics. This is

an area of about 400 square feet at a flying height of 2,000 feet.

Finally, the water temperatures should be measured at the water

surface, or at least near the surface, and in well mixed water.

Two temperature-measuring techniques were used in our

program. One was to use the intake and outfall temperatures

recorded routinely by the power plant, usually with thermocouples.

However, these temperatures are often unsatisfactory because they

are taken well beneath the water surface, and can differ by several

degrees from those sensed by the scanner. A more reliable

technique involved taking two “bucket” temperatures near the time

of flyover. At two designated locations, a tethered bucket was

lowered, filled with “surface” water, and retrieved. The

temperature of this water was measured with a standard

thermometer. Three problems were associated with this shore-

based technique: the isothermal area near shore was sometimes

smaller in size than the scan spot; the bucket temperatures on

occasion did not span the full water-surface temperature range; the

water was on occasion not well mixed, so that a surface skin may

have been present.

The size of the isothermal area was checked during analysis by

looking at digital values adjacent to the selected calibration value.

For 90% of the plumes analyzed the calibration points were

isothermal to within 0.3F. The bucket temperature for analyzed

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

97

data spanned a temperature range adequate to insure negligible

error; for those instances where this was not true the data could not

be analyzed. The hot calibration temperature was usually

measured in the plume discharge, a well mixed area. The skin effect

could, however, affect the cold calibration temperature. Com¬

parisons of in situ temperature mapping from a boat, and airborne

thermal scanning under a variety of environmental conditions

indicated good agreement with one exception (Point Beach, June 6,

1973).7 It was felt that the surface skin effect contributed to the

differences in this exception. Of all the plumes analyzed less than 5%

exhibited the unusual characteristics of the June 6, 1973 scan.

Errors as large as IF or 2F could be present in those analyses. Some

ground truth data were obtained from consulting firms working for

the power companies. However, attempts to coordinate measure¬

ment efforts with these firms were largely unsuccessful, so that

overlapping data are sparse. At Point Beach, several plume¬

measuring efforts were coordinated with the Argonne National

Laboratory.7

Finding the Size of the Thermal Plumes

The scanner output voltage recorded on tape in the aircraft was

converted to digital values in the laboratory on a PDP-11 computer

together with an analog-to-digital converter. The digital tapes were

then analyzed interactively with a graphics display terminal to

connect the operator with the University of Wisconsin-Madison

Univac 1110 computer.6 The terminal displayed a digital

representation of the thermal image. The operator used this image

to select ground truth locations and isolate the digital values

associated with the plume and ambient lake water from extraneous

heat sources. The digital scanner voltage values were then

converted to water surface temperatures by the above equation, and

areas enclosed within various isotherms calculated. A schematic

example is shown in Fig. 6. One should recall that the normal

definition of a mixing zone is equivalent to the area contained with

the 3F (above ambient) isotherm.8

Assigning an area to the digital values requires knowledge of the

aircraft groundspeed and its flying height. To obtain greater

accuracy the tangential distortion-corrected film image of the scan

was scaled with aerial photographs and power plant scale drawings

as references. Corrected aircraft speeds and altitudes were then

calculated. Slight variations in speed and altitude during the scan

were not corrected. Together these variations could introduce as

98

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

much as 7% error in the calculated areas. This occurred only on very

turbulent days; for most of the scans the error was much less.

10 F above

ambient

isotherm

/ Temperature

i within dotted ,

' line is greater /

\ than 52 F 7

Water temperature

outside the influence

of the plume

is 42 F

(the ambient temperature)

////'///////

^outfall

FIGURE 6. Schematic of Thermal Plume Isotherm

RESULTS

A photographic print was made of each RFR-70 thermal image,

with careful quality control to enhance the thermal plume. The

prints for each power plant were arranged as a mosaic and

photographically reduced. For each of these pages of thermal

images a corresponding page with pertinent information was made.

The typewritten pages are arranged so that the data pertaining to

each thermal image are in the corresponding frame. These pairs of

typewritten/ thermal image pages are Figs. 8 through 16. To

further save space the data are presented without units. After a

brief perusal of Fig. 7, an example with units included, the reader

will find this “mosaic tabulation” easy to comprehend. In some cases

not all the environmental and/or plant data were available. Dashes

are used in these instances. No areas are listed where the surface

calibration temperatures are missing. The metric system was not

used because DNR requested surface areas in square feet enclosed

within the 3F, 6F and 10F isotherms (the pertinent regulations are

(wind direction)

l (from north)

N 60^^

ambient lake

temperature,

/ pumping rate'

y cubic feet/sec,

.6 .1 .01

/ areas enclosed within the 3 F, 6 F, and 10 F J

\ isotherms, square feet x 106. /

FIGURE 7. Interpretation of Data Presentation Legend.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

99

written in degrees F). It would be possible of course to list areas in

square meters enclosed within the 1.67C, 3.33C, and 5.55C

isotherms. However, in view of the fact that the state regulations

regarding mixing zones are formulated in English units the

authors have decided to avoid confusion in one realm, at the risk of

creating it in another.

Error Summary

Error sources stemming from temperature calibration and

scaling of the imagery have been discussed. The maximum

expected error in either case is less than 10% for the plumes

analyzed. For most of the plumes the errors should be considerably

less. Temperature and scale calculations both contribute to the

error in the final result, the area enclosed within isotherms.

Assessing the contribution due to scale errors is straightforward;

assessing that due to temperature is more complex. Area uncertain¬

ties due to errors in temperature are modulated by the temperature

gradient. That is, where the slope of the area vs. temperature curve

is the steepest, the effect of temperature errors will be the greatest.

The wide variability in the structure of thermal plumes demands

each plume be evaluated individually. In general, however, we feel

a conservative estimate of the error bounds on the results presented

here is 10 ± %.

CONCLUSIONS AND RECOMMENDATIONS

It is impossible to conclude this report without a brief set of

recommendations based on the misgivings, frustrations, and

hindsight associated with two years of work. The authors offer the

recommendations below in the hope that they may be incorporated

as part of a cost-effective, regional remote sensing program serving

the needs of the State of Wisconsin.

Ground Truth The weakest link in the process of generating high

quality thermal contour maps from raw thermal scanner data is the

measurement of water surface temperatures required for calibra¬

tion. Although the authors were not satisfied with the ground truth

effort described above, it would be difficult to (inexpensively)

improve upon it on an operational basis. Two techniques of

improving future ground truth are worth investigating. These are:

1. Developing specially painted, large, heated panels of known

emissivity. These panels would be strategically placed near

100

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

the plume and frequently thermally calibrated. For routine

work, they would only need to be uncovered prior to flyover

and their temperature monitored.

2. Changing the scanner wavelength sensitivity from a range of

8 to 14 microns to one of 10 to 11.5 microns. Atmospheric

effects are considerably reduced in the latter range.9 It may

then be feasible to calibrate the scanner in the laboratory, and

2/9/73 13 W 34

220 919

.8 .2 .01

2/12/73 13 SE 33

240 S49

2.8 1.7 .3

10/5/73 10 WSW 60

24 0

9.8 2.2 .2

2/21/73 16 MW 34

210 830

1/4 .8 .2

10/18/73 11 MW 52

34 362

.3 .01 .01

1/30/73 7 WSW 33

201 978

1.2 .8 .1

2/20/74 5 SW 34

220 234

.3 .2 .1

3/21/74 15 WSW 36

226 716

2.1 .7 .01

3/27/74 9 SE 37

188 633

.4 .04 .01

3/13/74 --- ---

175 596

2/22/73 1 3 V 3/!

235 950

1.8 .6 .3

2/5/73 14 ME 35

160 949

2.1 .8 .3

3/12/74 17 NME 35

148 512

1.4 .4 .1

2/18/74 13 SSW 33

185 605

.5 .3 .2

2/13/74 11 S 35

58 399

.1 .02 .01

4/11/73 13 WSW 37

220 978

2.0 .4 .1

4/12/73 9 N 39

240 918

1.9 1.2 .3

5/30/74 10 NME 49

160 1496

4.9 1.2 .1

1977]

Madding et at. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

101

FIGURE 8. Thermal images and data for the Lakeside power plant.

102

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

neglect atmospheric effects altogether. The effects of the

surface skin are not well understood.10 Field experiments

under various environmental conditions would be useful to

ascertain under what conditions serious discrepancies occur

between scanner-derived surface water temperatures and

the actual near-surface water temperatures.

1/30/73 7 SW 34

1072 1907

3.0 2.1

2/9/73 10 W 34

1040 1912

4.1 2.5 .2

2/5/73 14 ML 34

1180 2135

1.23 .57 .1

3/6/74 13 SW 39

1135 2135

13.5 2.7 .9

1/4/74 13 W 36

989 2134

5.5 3.5 1.0

3/13/74 - -- 35

899 1934

8.1 6.9 3.6

2/8/74 2 W 32

1172 2153

.5 .5 .3

1/11/74 11 V. 33

1018 2134

2.2 1.6 .1

1/8/74 6 SW 33

1199 2134

1.9 .7 .1

3/6/74 13 SW 39

1135 2135

13.5 2.7 1.0

3/21/74 15 WSW 38

1035 2153

36.0 13.4 .8

11/5/73 15 MW 51

1198 2135

3.0 .1 none

9/10/73 11 W 55

1267 2335

3.9 .2 .1

1/9/74 8 WNW 32

1101 2134

2.2 1.9 1.0

2/26/74 15 S 33

777 1738

5.1 2.0 .1

4/23/74 1 6 V.I 49

1075 1913

4.3 .1 none

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

103

FIGURE 9. Thermal images for the Oak Creek power plant.

104

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Routine Monitoring Routine thermal monitoring of thermal

plumes is recommended. Public interest in all aspects of power

generation has understandably increased with the dramatic

increase in the number of power plants. Aerial remote sensing of

thermal discharges is an inexpensive way to insure compliance with

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

105

FIGURE 10. Thermal images for the Edgewater power plant.

106

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

regulations, and keep the public informed of the extent of thermal

discharges into Lake Michigan. New power plants should be

monitored frequently initially, to extend what has been reported

herein. Routine monitoring would also be useful as a guide and a

complement to other thermal plume sampling programs.

7/10/73 10 NNE 54

I: 500 858

II: 500 858

11.1 2.8 .3

7/17/74 16 S 55

I : 500 858

II: 500 858

5.2 .3 .1

9/7/73 9 SSE 48

I : 495 858

II : 500 858

16.9 3.3 .6

5/21/74 9 SSE 49

II: 495 884

4.6 .8 .2

6/7/73 14 SW 49

I: 487 858

II: 500 858

8.8 2.0 .2

6/26/73 calm 51

I : 970 858

II: 970 858

2.1 .5 .1

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

107

FIGURE 11. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (A)

108

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Round-the-Lake Monitoring If routine monitoring is deemed

necessary, it would be foolish not to monitor an entire region, or at

least all of Lake Michigan. Aerial remote sensing has proven to be

quite cost-effective for monitoring the Wisconsin portion of Lake

Michigan; the cost-effectiveness would certainly increase if all of

Lake Michigan were included.

10/12/73 12 SW 50

I . 474 353

II. 508 858

t 1 . 8 4.5 .8

9/14/73 2 NE 62

I : 390 858

II: 505 858

32.4 10.3 1.0

9/12/73 4 WNW 58

I : 500 858

II : 500 858

20.3 9.9 1.5

1 1/1 9/73 9 ?!Nt- 42

1 : '4 70 436

II : 500 871

11.9 5.3 3.2

10/1/73 8 ME 60

1 . 480 858

II : 500 358

65.4 12.6 1.5

9/14/73 2 NE 61

I : 390 858

II: 505 858

41 .9 14.5 .3

9/14/71

10/10/73 13 S 56

P 480 858

II: 507 853

3.7 1.3 .3

10/5/73 10 W 60

I : 400 858

II : 505 858

39.8 7.2 1.0

3/7/74 19 NE 36

I : 475 490

1 1 : 5‘00 490

18.4 13.8 6.3

4/17/73 2& SE 33

I: 371 858

1 1 : 467 853

10.7 4.0 .4

9/20/73 9 N 57

I : 500 858

II : 500 358

5.6 1.6 .8

4/5/73 8 SE 37

371 884

4.4 1.2 .2

3/23/73 9 SE 40

I : 375 490

II : 450 490

11.7 4.7 1.0

5/30/74 1 0 N WE A 7

II: 495 884

13.5 6.0 1.2

5/30/73 7 II E 50

I : 480 858

II: 480 353

34.7 24.9 3.5

4/9/72

4/12/73 11 !< 38

373 884

3.7 1.4 .1

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes, L. Michigan

109

FIGURE 12. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (B)

110

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

9/15/71

4/11/72

4/1 5/72

7/11/73

5/9/74 3 NNE --

II : 490 884

4/6/72

4/11/72

4/11/72

4/12/72

5/15/74 9 MW 44

II: 488 884

10.5 1.5 .3

Sept. 1971

4/9/72

5/15/74 13 NW 43

II: 500 884

3.3 1.0 .1

4/12/72

4/15/72

4/23/74 NW 44

I : 0

II: 485 884

8.2 .6 .2

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

111

FIGURE 13. Thermal images for the Point Beach power plant. (C)

112

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

4/17/73 10 SSW 42

227 457

1.0 .2 .1

2/19/74 5 NW .34

247 428'

.2 .1 .02

2/21/73 5 NW 33

283 400

.4 .1 .03

2/18/74 1 SW 32

233 371

.7 .1 .04

3/27/73 7 SE 37

248 363

2.0 .8 .4

10/5/73 3 W 64

270 451

1.8 1.0 .1

10/12/73 10 SSW 68

249 451

2/20/74 8 SW 32

220 371

.3 .04 .02

2/27/74 6 S 33

247 330

.4 .1 .05

2/18/74 2 S 33

245 428

.4 .4 .2

4/11/73 5 SW 37

260 377

1.1 .1 .1

4/5/73 !

257 410

1.4 .7

3/12/74

248 382

.01 0

36

0

SW

.3

41

1/4/74 4 SW 33

322 364

.3 .3 .05

2/12/73 7 SE 33

222 518

.7 .1 .02

1/11/74 4 N 32

317 422

.5 .4 .2

2/22/73 7 W 34

277 400

2.5 .6 .1

2/26/74 3 S 35

239 359

.5 .1 .02

1977] Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan 113

FIGURE 14. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (A)

114

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

9/7/73 -- 70

290 603

.5 .1 .01

2/5/73 6 E 34

350 466

2.0 .2 .01

11/19/73 7 HE 42

331 385

4.6 1.3 .8

2/8/74 2 SiJ 33

275 415

.4 .2 .04

9/4/73 8 SSW 68

286 744

.5 .4 .2

3/6/74 6 SU 36

246 332

3.4 .4 .2

9/1 2/73 4 mvj 62

290 796

7.4 3.1 1.2

2/9/73 4 U --

356 466

6/12/74 --- 62

261 414

1/39/73 4 E 32

313 388

.7 .2 .02

1 0/1 7/73 4 <:«/ --

347 536

1/30/74 6 SC 33

359 471

1.6 .2 .02

4/23/74 9 H 44

360 593

.2 .1 .02

9/20/ 73 2 ilE 58

282 451

.9 .5 .1

9/14/73 5 SW -

322 744

3/7/74 9 ME 34

234 382

.3 .1 .03

3/13/74 2 E 36

245 382

.6 .04 .01

9/10/73 3 SW --

281 796

7/10/73 3 NE 72

323 874

3.2 .8 .2

7/11/73 3 ESE 72

333 874

5.8 2.1 .1

1977]

Madding et at. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

115

FIGURE 15. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (B)

116

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

6/15/73 4 SW 72

336 833

.8 .4 .02

3/23/73 7 SC 37

251 372

.4 .1 .03

6/14/73 3 SW --

328 833

5/21/74 --- 56

265 431

1.3 .5 .1

6/7/73 8 SW --

351 743

1.1 .5 .1

10/1/73 4 WE 66

283 373

.6 .2 .1

10/10/73 6 S 63

306 396

1.3 .7 .3

7/17/74 --- 76

284 848

.9 .1 .03

6/6/73 4 W 70

343 833

1.1 .6 .1

5/30/74 --- 61

267 403

1.6 .4 .04

5/15/74 5 SW 50

244 453

.7 .4 .02

7/3/73 5 SSW 71

308 774

.8 .3 .03

5/15/74 6 W 52

254 453

.4 .1 .02

5/31/73 5 SW 59

348 594

.6 .3 .1

3/28/73 2 SE 34

258 363

1.3 .7 .3

5/11/73 11 W 54

347 652

.3 .2 .1

9/14/73 4 SW 79

327 744

.3 .1 .02

5/30/73 7 S 52

341 594

.6 .3 .3

7/3/74 --- 72

360 932

.2 .1 .02

1977]

Madding et al. — Therman Plumes , L. Michigan

117

FIGURE 16. Thermal images for the Pulliam power plant. (C)

dM sn1

118

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Thermal Standards The thermal standards for power-plant

thermal plumes should be written operationally, as a compromise

between “end-of-pipe” standards and biological-effect standards.

That is, standards should be based on information that can be

obtained with a reasonable effort. Standard remote-sensing

monitoring procedures should be developed, which would include

standardized, routine, ground-truth measuring techniques. The

control of raw data through the entire processing procedure should

also be standardized to insure that legal integrity is maintained.

Every attempt should be made to avoid arbitariness by continuing

intensive biological effect programs at a few representative plants,

rather than studying all plants on relatively limited bases.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In any study as extensive as this many people besides the

principal authors are necessary for completion of the project. It

would be difficult to list everyone who contributed his time and

talents. The authors are especially grateful for the invaluable

assistance and cooperation of the DNR flight crew, specifically, K.

Beghin, L. Sypchalla, J. Palmer, G. Olson, and T. Sheafor. This

project would never “have gotten off” the ground without the superb

administrative, technical, and advisory help offered by these men.

In addition the quality of the scanner data is due in large part to

excellent piloting of the DC-3 as well as the superior suitability of

this aircraft for research purposes.

The authors also wish to thank university personnel, Dr. L. Fisher

whose expertise in interactive computer programming was a

critical and essential aspect for the success of this project, and F.

Townsend, L. Jaeger, W. Reindl, G. Howard and C. Fricke who

assisted in the preparation of this report. The authors are grateful

for the support and cooperation of all agencies and utilities involved

whose names are mentioned in the text.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. Neill, W. H., and J. J. Magnuson. 1974. Distributional ecology and

behavioral thermoregulation of fishes in relation to heated effluent

from a power plant at Lake Monona, Wisconsin; Trans. Amer. Fish.

Soc. 103: 663-710.

1977]

Madding et al. — Thermal Plumes , L. Michigan

119

2. Robinson, J. P. 1973. Migratory Movements of Adult Coho Salmon,

Onconorhynchus Kisutch, in Lake Michigan as revealed by Ultrasonic

Telemetry Methods: I. General Movements. II. Behavior Near the

Point Beach Nuclear Power Plant Thermal Plume. M.S. Thesis;

Zoology, Univ. Wisconsin— Madison.

3. Stuntz, W. E. 1973. Distribution of Fishes near Point Beach Power

Plant, Lake Michigan; MS Thesis, Zoology, Univ. Wisconsin—

Madison.

4. Scarpace, F. L., R. P. Madding, and T. G. Green III; 1975. Scanning

Thermal Plumes; Photogram. Engr. and Remote Sensing 41: Oct.,

1975.

5. Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources Administrative Code

NR102.04: “Lake Michigan Thermal Standards;” Register, Jan. 1972.

6. Madding, R. P., and L. T. Fisher. 1976. Interactive Analysis of

Thermal Imagery. Proc. Amer. Soc. Photogramm; 42nd Annual

Meeting; Feb., 1976.

7. Madding, R. P., J. V. Tokar, and G. J. Marmer. 1974. A Comparison of

Aerial Infrared and In Situ Thermal Plume Measurement Techni¬

ques. Proc. Environ. Effects Cooling Systems at Nuclear Power

Plants; IAEA Symposium; Oslo, Norway; Aug. 1974.

8. Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources Proposed Ad-

minstrative Code NR102.05; “Lake Michigan and Lake Superior

Thermal Standards”, approved by DNR Board, Nov. 21, 1974.

9. Razumovskii, I. T. 1972. Effect of the Atmosphere on the Accuracy of

Measuring Sea-Surface Temperature by Aircraft-Borne

Radiometers. Radiatsionnye Issledovaniya v Atmosphere (At¬

mospheric Radiation Studies), 1972. Translation available from U.S.

Department of Commerce, Natl. Tech. Inform. Ser., Springfield, Va.

22151.

10. Ewing, G., and E. D. McAlister, On the thermal boundary layer of the

ocean; Science; 131; 174.

CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MACROPHYTES IN

GREEN LAKE, WISCONSIN, FROM 1921 TO 1971

Mary Jane Bumby

Green Lake , Wisconsin

ABSTRACT

In 1921, H . W . Rickett studied the macrophytes in this lake and

his data are the basis for a 50 year comparison. The 1971 and 1921

data at the 30 selected stations showed that, overall, total biomass

decreased. Five species increased in biomass while eight species

decreased; four species of Potamogeton were not found in the 1971

quadrats, but all except one have been identified as still present

elsewhere in the lake. Myriophyllum spicatum , Vallisneria

americana and Potamogeton crispus have the largest increases,

while Chara sp. had the largest decrease of more than 600 gm/m2.

The largest total biomass decrease occurred at the deepest area in

the littoral zone 3 (3-10 m) with zone 2(1-3 m) and zone 1 (0-1 m) also

decreasing in that order. The sharp differences in biomass between

the high and low stations selected from Rickett’s report have

diminished; all the previous high stations have declined in biomass

and the low stations display no specific pattern of change. One high

and one low station within the deepest zone located where effluents

entered the lake, were devoid of vegetation in 1971. Over the 50 year

span, the total percentage of dry weights of the comparable plant

species showed an insignificant increase, but some individuals had

significant variations.

No Cladophora problem existed in Green Lake during Rickett’s

observations, but, in 1971, the biomass of the filamentous algae,

mainly Cladophora sp., formed a serious nuisance in the littoral

zone and proved to be the most important autotroph by weight in

zone 1 and third in both zones 2 and 3. Blue-green algae in the

phytoplanktonic community in 1971 were Microcystis aeruginosa,

Anabaena flos-aquae, Aphanazomenon flos-aquae and Gloeotrichia

echinulata.

It appears that the littoral plant community in Green Lake has

diminished in the past 50 years, especially in the deepest zone,

although macrophytes of foreign origin, Vallisneria americana and

filamentous algae are increasing in importance.

120

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971 121

INTRODUCTION

Green Lake, located in Green Lake County (Lat. 42° 48' N, Long.

89° 00' W), has a narrowly oval outline oriented northeast to

southwest with a length of 11.9 km and a maximum width of 3.2 km

(Fig. 1). This lake, which is the deepest inland lake (72.7 m) in the

FIGURE 1. Hydrographic map of Green Lake adapted from Marsh and

Chandler (1898) showing depth in meters and geographic

features mentioned in text. Plankton samples were collected

at Pier Station (X), Buoy Sation (#) and Deep Station (*). Some

physical data were also obtained from the latter site (Bumby

1972).

state (Juday 1914), was formed by glacial action when the Green

Bay lobe of the Wisconsin Stage of glaciation modified the

preglacial valley formed earlier by stream erosion. The ice moved

through this valley in the direction of the lake's long axis and

deepened the basin which is underlain by easily worn Potsdam

sandstone. Glacial drift closed the smaller tributary valleys and

impounded the water into the present lake basin by depositing a

moraine at the west end of the ancient valley. The water thereafter

drained through a new outlet, the present day Puchyan River,

which flows northeasterly to join the Fox River, finally draining

into Lake Michigan.

Pietenpol (1918) noted that Green Lake is not “marsh stained”.

Silver Creek is the largest stream entering the lake; additional

122

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

water comes from springs, either directly, or via five small streams

on the SW and SE shores and one stream enters the head of

Norwegian Bay, through land owned by the American Baptist

Assembly (ABA). The hydrographic map of Green Lake (Fig. 1)

shows the low areas which Rickett (1924) described as “extensive

swamps and marshes” at the Silver Creek and other stream inlets.

Other marshy areas are evident in the vicinity of Quimby’s Bay and

at the head of Norwegian Bay which Rickett described as a “muddy

bog”. The shoreline is diverse with low sandy beaches at the ends of

the lake, wooded slopes of varying steepness, and perpendicular

cliffs of Potsdam sandstone at Lucas Bluff, W of Lone Tree Point, S

of Sugar Loaf and E of Dickenson’s Bay. An unauthorized dam

which raised the level of the lake 5 ft. (1.5 m) was built by the Victor

Lawsons at one of the mills along the outlet; the date is unknown but

probably was before the first hydrographic map (Marsh and

Chandler, 1898) because the depth of the lake was reported by them

as 72.2 m. Perhaps then, this change of water level, which affected

the entire shoreline of the lake, occurred 23 years before Rickett’s

study of the macrophytes in the pristine water of Green Lake.

Presently, “Big Green”, as it is often called, is, and has been for

some years, heavily used for recreation during all seasons of the

year. It is beautifully set within a densely wooded margin which is

surrounded by a large watershed area of 27,618.8 ha (Marter and

Cheetham 1971). This basin can be divided into 1,537.8 ha in roads

and farmsteads, 991.1 ha in urban areas (two cities) and 1, 256.6 ha

in public land; the remaining 86.3% (23,832.5 ha) is mostly in

agricultural use. Because of its attractive setting, large size, depth

and proximity to populated areas, there are many houses of all sizes

along this lake’s 43.9 km of shoreline. Fortunately, extensive parts

of the shore have not been subdivided. The City of Green Lake is

located on the NE edge of the lake near the outlet. The Wisconsin

Department of Natural Resources is authorized to determine the

maximum and minimum levels of the lake but the actual control of

the level is in the hands of the City of Green Lake, since it owns the

dam.

Sewer lines are located within the City of Green Lake (1,033 in

1970) but the lake is not affected because the partially treated

sewage is discharged into the outlet. Plans are underway to improve

this plant. In 1971, treated sewage effluents did enter the lake from

the ABA treatment plant, which discharges into Norwegian Bay

(Fig. 1) at station 13 (Fig. 2), and also from the City of Ripon (grown

from 3,929 population in 1920 to 7,053 in 1970) through its

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

123

FIGURE 2. Outline map of Green Lake showing- the location of the

stations sampled in 1971. Depth zones at these stations are

Zone 1 (0-1 m), Zone 2 (1-3 m) and Zone 3 (3-10 m). Station

numbers are those of Rickett (1924).

discharge into Silver Creek which enters near station 34 (Fig. 1 and

2). Septic systems are used in all other areas around the lake,

regardless of steepness of slope, soil type, and height of land above

the water table. Almost all of the previously described low-lying

areas of the lake’s shoreline have been affected by channels dredged

for boat docks and by the dredge spoils used as land fill for real

estate development. Perhaps because of these circumstances of

population growth, large watershed area, sewage disposal methods

and the change of the low-lying land from its natural state, many

symptoms of deteriorating water quality have appeared in Green

Lake in recent years. Colored oblique aerial photographs give

evidence of some of these conditions (Bumby 1972). These

photographs show opaque, discolored water entering the lake

through the Silver Creek inlet which carries both Ripon’s sewage

effluent and runoff from a low-lying real estate development, and

also at the opening of Quimby’s Bay (which has been deepened and

enlarged through dredging for real estate development). The

obvious mixing of seston in the water in the littoral zone by heavy

motorboat traffic is visible in another photo. But, the real evidence

of increasing eutrophication of the lake is found in the plants

including Cladophora sp. and other filamentous algae now growing

124

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

abundantly attached to rocks and macrophytes to 1.5 m depth in

spring' and early summer; two introduced species, Potamogeton

crispus and Myriophyllum spicatum, very prominent in the

submerged community; the decreased biomass of submerged

macrophytes; and the various blue-green algae floating on or near

the surface of the water in summer.

In the six years since the summer of 1971 several changes have

occurred. The Potamogeton species which were reported in 1921 but

not collected in 1971, have been identified (except for one) along

with previously unreported species in Green Lake. Concern for

water quality has risen over the effect of the body wastes of the

Canada geese which linger at Green Lake until late freeze-up date

in mid-January. This problem has been aggravated by the new

DNR policies enacted to make Horicon Marsh inhospitable to the

migrating geese. But perhaps recent changes to liberalize hunting

regulations will help. The three collective sewage systems in the

watershed area have made improvements. The ABA put into

operation a primary facility with an absorption pond for land

disposal of effluent to avoid discharge into Norwegian Bay. The

Green Lake City sewage system has been extended to some

lakeshore residents and a hotel, and is now planning the necessary

enlargement and modernization of its sewage plant. The City of

Ripon has in almost full operation its new modern activated sludge,

tertiary treatment system which will significantly change Silver

Creek and its environs. Fifteen Ripon College students completed

studies of the physical, chemical and biological parameters from

June 1972 to August 1974 paid by the federal government and by

the Green Lake Association. This latter organization of interested

volunteers pursues many issues and problems concerning the lake.

The Green Lake Sanitary District (established in 1964) is financing

a study which will produce a feasibility report on control of the

input of nutrients into the lake. The conversion of the sanitary

district into a lake district is an important issue before the Green

Lake County Board. Mechanical harvesting of nuisance weeds had

been studied and considered too expensive but some owners have

sprayed herbicides on the aquatic weeds and algae. This approach is

not inexpensive either and may have more detrimental effects than

now known, besides causing toxic reactions in unknowing

swimmers who enter these areas too soon after spraying. The

problems of the changes in water quality of Green Lake are

profoundly interwoven with human activity.

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971 125

METHODS

The sampling method used in this study was based as nearly as

possible on Rickett’s method so that data from the two studies could

be validly compared. Rickett (1924) chose 41 stations of which 38

were determined by shore characteristics and the three others were

marshy bays. At each station, aquatic plants were taken from three

depth zones: zone 1 (0-1 m), zone 2 (1-3 m), and zone 3 (3-10 m or

where plants cease to grow) and collections were taken in the

shallow zone first. A square frame of thin, heavy metal, 50 x 50 x 7

cm, was used to delineate a 0.25 m2 area of the bottom, and all large

algae and macrophytes (including roots) within the frame were

collected.

Actually, the pattern Rickett used for the collection of samples is

not clear. He stated that multiple samples were taken at stations in

zones 1 and 2, whereas, because the plants in zone 3 were more

homogeneous where bottom type and slope were similar, one

collection was often applied to several of these similar stations in

that zone. The number of 0.25 m2 samples collected averaged less

than three per station for all depth zones. Whatever the pattern of

sample collection used by Rickett, the weights were computed in g

per m2 for each species at the stations; see Tables 3, 4 and 5 of Rickett

(1924). I used the totals of these 1921 wet weights in choosing the

stations to be studied in 1971. No dates of collection of samples were

furnished in the 1921 study.

For this 1971 study, ten of Rickett’s 41 stations were selected in

each zone (depth) to include the five highest and the five lowest in

wet weight total values. Because of these criteria, it can be noted in

Fig. 2 that the ten stations compared over the 50 years for zone 1 are

not necessarily the same stations used for zones 2 or 3. The pattern

for the collection of the samples consisted of the following: in both

zones 1 and 2, samples were taken at three different anchorages

randomly located within the limits of each station, whereas in zone

3, one sample was randomly collected at each station. Wet weights

were tabulated, averaged (for zones 1 and 2) and then computed into

g/m2 for all species collected within each of the 10 stations at each of

the three zones. Thus, data of 1971 and 1921 can be satisfactorily

compared for the majority of the species; the problems involving the

species will be revealed below.

The 1971 collections in zone 1 were completed July 7-9; all 30

samples were taken within 0.5-1 .0 m depth, average 0.8 m. In zone 2,

the 30 samples were collected between 1. 4-2.6 m, average 2.1 m and

126

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

were taken from July 16-30. The 10 samples in zone 3 were collected

on August 7-8 in depths ranging from 3. 7-5.2 m, average 4.4 m.

Sometimes a clear line was observed at about 4.6 m beyond which

little or nothing grew on the bottom; Rickett reported no plants

after 8 m.

Labeled plastic bags separated each sample collected within a

quadrat and kept the plants fresh. Collected material was examined

and sorted the same day by placing the contents into a large, white

enamel pan filled with water. As much of the filamentous algae as

practicable was separated from the Chara sp. and other

macrophytes. After sorting and identifying the species of

macrophytes and filamentous algae (under 20 to 140x magnifica¬

tion), they were wrapped in absorbent, dry cloths to remove the

excess water, then unwrapped and weighed with a Dial-O-Gram

scale accurate to 0. 1 g. The weighed samples were separately placed

in labeled paper bags and dried at 70 C for 4-6 days. Rickett

estimated dry weights from the wet weights with a factor for

wetidry for each species.

Data for biomass of the filamentous algae over the 50 year period

are not comparable because in 1921 algal biomass was not

determined for each quadrat. Rickett wrote of the lack of

Cladophora sp. in Green Lake, contrasting this with the serious

algal problems in Lake Mendota at that time. He reported that in

Green Lake Cladophora sp. grew only as a fringe on a few of the

rocks at the edge of the water or a few inches below the surface in

some areas. Estimations of the biomass of the very few large patches

of Cladophora sp. then growing in Green Lake in zone 1 were

obtained with a different technique from the collection of plants in

quadrats; the perimeter of a patch was estimated by Rickett after

rowing a boat around it and, from the wet and dry weights directly

obtained from the algae collected in one of these patches, the

biomass of the other patches was approximated. Therefore, it was

not possible to satisfactorily compare these different areas and

weight measurements for Cladophora over this 50 year interval.

The total biomass collected in 1971 at each station and zone is

presented in two ways in this report; the biomass is given both with

and without the weights of the filamentous algae, mainly

Cladophora sp. Without the algae, the values are the basis for

comparison with Rickett’s data, while the inclusion of the algae

gives a clearer portrayal of the plant community in Green Lake

during the growing season of 1971.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

127

In 1971, the samples in zone 1 and 2 were taken by a diver using

snorkel, face mask and flippers. A SCUBA diver collected the

plants in zone 3, using a pressure sensor to determine the exact

depth at which the samples were taken. A “diver with a helmet” was

used by Rickett in the deepest zone.

Rickett wrote of the lumping of rare species with similar

macrophyte species because his study was a quantitive one.

Certainly, it is unfortunate that no voucher specimens from his

study could be located because verification of their identifications

would help answer several questions. Voucher specimens from the

1971 study are deposited in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee

herbarium. The nomenclature for various plant species is that of

Fassett (1960) as revised by Ogden (except for the species of

Myriophyllum and Ranunculus); algae were identified according to

Smith (1920), and the revised edition of Ward and Whipple

(Edmondson 1963) was used for the zooplankton.

RESULTS

The biomass of the individual species of submerged macrophytes

in 1921 and 1971 are discussed in sequence from the largest over-all

increase in wet weight to the largest decrease, followed by comment

on those plants which seemingly disappeared. References are made

to minor aquatic plants, to attached filamentous algae (according to

biomass), to plankton (according to presence), and to some physical

data.

This report gives the macrophytes found in Green Lake in 1971

and also in 1921, the macrophytes reported only in 1921, and the

macrophytes not found in 1971 but identified later from 1971 to

1974; 6 taxa of macrophytes are noted which either were not present

in 1921 or were possibly missidentified at that time. The basic data

for these comparisons of changes in biomass and species are

tabulated in the thesis (Bumby 1972) in Appendices A, B and C and

are summarized in its Tables 3, 4 and 5. Each species collected in

1971 is compared to the 1921 data according to their biomass (total

g/30 m2 for total zones or total g/10 m2 for any one zone) numerically

and in percentage (Bumby 1972), and here graphically (Figs. 3, 4, 5,

and 6).

The biomass of the algae is often indicated in the above data for

each macrophyte species at the zones as it is also for the changes in

the selected stations in each zone (Figs. 7A, 7B, 8A, 8B, 9A, 9B).

128

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

BIOMASS CHANGES IN SUBMERGED MACROPHYTES

Increases

The following taxa increased in wet weight biomass over the 50

year period in the selected stations. Approximations of biomass

compared are in total g/30 m2 with or without the inclusion of the

filamentous algal biomass. As the result of this study, the most

abundant species and the one with the largest increase in biomass is

Myriophyllum spicatum L. The species identified as M. ver-

ticillatum L. var. pectinatum Wallbr. by Rickett is no longer present

in the lake in any of the stations checked in 1971 (where it had been

abundant in 1921). Its place has been completely taken over by the

Eurasian invader, M. spicatum, with more than one-third increase

in biomass (Fig. 3). As mentioned before, no voucher specimens

from the 1921 study have been located so the specimens concerned

cannot be verified. Thus, it is possible that the species of the 1921

study may have been either incorrectly identified or may have

changed from a minor species (the same or a different minor

species) to a dominant one in the plant community today. In my

thesis, I designated this taxon as M. exalbescens Fernald, but it was

identified from voucher specimens as M. spicatum in November

1972 by F. M. Uhler of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center,

Laurel, Maryland.

Myriophyllum spicatum is the most important plant in Green

Lake today and this is not unusual for a hard water lake of 163 to 183

ppmCaC03 (Hasler 1967). Over the 50 year period, total wet weight

of the Myriophyllum taxon increased by 2,232 g. Its 1971 total wet

weight of 8,265 g represented 46% (56% dry weight) of the total

biomass in this comparative study (Bumby 1972). In 1921, Rickett

reported M. verticillatum L. var. pectinatum Wallbr. present in

Green Lake with a total wet weight of 6,033 g which was only 11.6%

(10% dry weight) of the total biomass at the selected stations.

Flowers and fruits were found on floating Myriophyllum on July 2,

1971 and, in September, more flowers and fruits were seen on both

floating and rooted plants in a sheltered area. During the summer

and fall of 1972 and 1973, no fertile plants were observed, but 1974

produced profuse growths of fertile plants.

The species showing the second largest increase in biomass is

Vallisneria americana Michx. whose wet weight was 1,785 g in

1971 in contrast to 214 g in 1921. In 1971, this wet weight was about

10% of the total biomass whereas 50 years ago, it was only 0.4%.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

129

Rickett listed V. spiralis L. as being present in Green Lake, but this

seems to be an error in identification; Fassett (1960) comments that

the latter species is European and the only species recorded in

North America is V. americana. Also, only V. americana has been

Algae

Ceratophyllum

demersum

Char a sp.

Elodea

canadensis

Heteranthera

dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis

Potamogeton

crispus

P. pectinatus

P. Richardsonii

P. zosteriformis p23

4200

8400

12,600 16,800 21,000

Ranunculus spp. p

Vallisneria

americana

Zannichellia

palustris

Other

P. amplifolius

P. foliosus

P. gramineus

1921 Ea*»*l and 1971

P. natans 33

Moss i

FIGURE 3. The total changes in wet weight biomass g/30m2 of each

species collected in the three zones in 1921 and 1971.

130

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

reported by Nichols and Mori (1971), Modlin (1970) and Belonger

(1969) whereas Rickett (1922) reported that it had the greatest

biomass in Lake Mendota in 1920.

Third in the series of those macrophytes showing increases is

Najasflexilis (Willd.) Rostk. and Schmidt, one of the three taxa in

Green Lake with true hydrophily. It increased in wet weight from

186 g (0.4% of total biomass) to 647 g in 1971 (3.6% of total biomass).

Ranking fourth in weight among taxa with increasing total

biomass was an early summer macrophyte which was not reported

in the 1921 study. Potamogeton crispus L. has a total wet weight of

180.4 g which was 1% of the total biomass in this study. Since it

disintegrates in early summer, its weight is probably undervalued.

The appearance of P. crispus, an important European invader, may

be of particular significance in judging the quality of lake waters

because it often appears in polluted water (Fassett 1960) and in

waters which have been enriched with city wastes (McCombie and

Wile 1971). On the other hand, Sculthorpe (1967) includes P. crispus

with the “almost truly cosmopolitan” submerged hydrophytes

which become easily established in the areas where native plants

are not well adapted. Its turion is the most highly specialized of all

the aquatic plants and these winter buds were often seen floating in

Green Lake during this study and have become increasingly evident

in the summers since 1971. Fertile plants were not noticed until

1974, when they were profuse. Since its introduction from Europe,

it has spread to the West Coast (Ogden 1943), and Moyle (1945)

reported this species in Minnesota about 1910; perhaps this plant

was in the lake in 1921 and was lumped in with another Potamogeton

species. Unfortunately, this taxon will probably become extremely

important in the plant community because of its abundant

vegetative reproduction.

Comparison of weights of Ranunculus longirostris Godron [ = R.

circinatus Sibth. (Fassett I960)] with weights of the Ranunculus sp.

reported in 1921, indicated the least gain in biomass, only 19 g. The

1921 Ranunculus sp. with 553 g wet weight, was 1 . 1% of the biomass;

the 1971 species, with 572 g wet weight, was 3.2% of the biomass. On

July 2, 1971, flowering specimens of the former species were

identified in the floral key of Muenscher (1944). Rickett had

reported the presence of R. aquatilis L. var. capillaceus D.C. (now

called R. trichophyllus Chaix., according to Fassett, 1960). The

species Rickett found was not collected in the present study.

However, both of these species have been reported in water bodies in

this area by Belonger (1969), Modlin (1970) and Nichols and Mori

1977]

Bum, by — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

131

(1971) who cite R. longirostris, while R. trichophyllus, reported by

Rickett, was listed by Lind and Cottam (1969). Interestingly,

Hotchkiss (1967) considers R. aquatilis and R. longirostris as the

“same”. As in the Myriophyllum situation, a complete replacement

by another species of the same genus over the 50 year period may

have occurred or there may have been an error in identification,

which cannot be resolved because no herbarium specimens of the

earlier collection are available.

Decreases

The following taxa showed declines in wet weight biomass at the

30 stations compared in 1921 and 1971. Often an increase in

percentage of the total biomass in 1971 will be evident which

reflects the decline in total biomass of that year, especially for those

species in the lower range of decreases. See Fig. 3.

Potamogeton Richardsonii (Benn.) Rybd. changed from 119 g in

1921 to 53 g in 1971. This taxon had the least decline in wet weight

biomass, although it constituted only 0.2% of the total biomass 50

years ago and 0.3% in 1971. This minor increase may reflect the

different total biomass values in these studies.

Second in the group of species with decreases is Heteranthera

dubia (Jacq.) MacM. which declined a total of 867 g and changed

from 1.8% of the 1921 total biomass to 0.5% in 1971.

Potamogeton zosteriformis Fernald decreased 1,234 g in wet

weight and changed from 2.5% of the total biomass in 1921 to only

0.4% in 1971. Perhaps indicative of its low status in eutrophic lakes

is its relative frequency of 0.12% in University Bay (Lind and

Cottam 1969) and 0.4% in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971).

Elodea canadensis (Michx.) Planchon [ = Anacharis canadensis

(Michx.) Planchon] changed from 2,380 g wet weight in 1921 when

it was 4.6% of the total biomass, to 952 g of wet weight and 5.3% of the

total biomass at the present time. McCombie and Wile (1971) found

that Elodea sp. was either absent or abundant, but always

associated with abundant Chara sp., in the clearer impoundments

with specific conductivities between 224 and 330 micromhos/cm2 at

18 C. Because Chara sp. also declined in the 1971 study (see below),

this study seems to support their observations of a relationship

between these two taxa.

Potamogeton pectinatus L. diminished 1,858 g in wet weight since

1921. Its biomass changed from 4% of the total biomass in 1921 to 1%

of the total biomass in 1971. The date of collection is important as

132

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

this is a late-maturing plant (Belonger 1969). Fertile plants were

common every year 1971-74 in Green Lake. Sculthorpe ( 1967) wrote

that P. pectinatus may grow in very polluted areas and is among the

“silt-loving species”. This seems contradictory in this study, since

silted and polluted conditions are a recent occurrence in this lake;

perhaps this plant is responding to other physical or chemical

environmental factors.

Zannichellia palustris L., one of the few macrophytes with true

hydrophily, was identified by its seeds on frail, otherwise barren

stems, collected in July and early August 1971. The biomass of this

early-summer plant would have been greater, if its leaves had been

present at the time of collections. During the time of the study, this

plant showed a decrease of 2,072 g in wet weight with a change from

2,083 g in 1921 (4% of the total biomass) to 11.4 g (0.06% of the total

biomass) in 1971. It was not reported by Modlin (1970), Belonger

(1969), Nichols and Mori (1971), Livingston and Bentley (1964) or

McCombie and Wile (1971). Lind and Cottam (1969) reported it in

University Bay in Lake Mendota with a relative frequency of 0.03%

and noted that it had not been reported previously in that area. It is a

very small plant which matures in early June and could be easily

overlooked if broken into small pieces.

Ceratophyllum demersum L., another common plant with

submerged hydrophilous flowers, diminished 8,834 g in wet weight

from 12, 190 g (23% of the total biomass) in 1921 to 3,356 g ( 19% of the

total biomass) in 1971.

Chara sp. showed the most dramatic decline from its peak

biomass 19,194 g (40% wet and 54% dry of the total biomass) in 1921

to 1,553 g (9% wet and 13% dry of the total biomass) in 1971. In 1971,

Nitella sp. was observed in Green Lake in very small quantities and

was not separated from Chara sp. Rickett reported the abundance

of Chara sp. in Green Lake; he found that it grew “ . . . almost

everywhere . . . sometimes mixed with other plants, often forming

great masses in which no other form can get a foothold.” He

contrasted its abundance in Green Lake with its paucity in Lake

Mendota which he had studied the summer before. The difference

he attributed to Lake Mendota’s muddier bottom and its warmer,

more turbid water. Recent documentation of the abundance of

Chara sp. has been reported by Modlin (1970) and Belonger (1969)

and the tolerance of it for wide ranges of CaC03 (4.2-118 ppm) can

be found in the work of Livingston and Bentley (1964). However,

environmental situations exist where no Chara sp. can be found, as

in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971), and where it is the taxon

1977]

Bumby - Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

133

with the lowest relative frequency of 0.01%, as in University Bay in

Lake Mendota (Lind and Cottam 1969). Thus, Chara sp., although

still present in Lake Mendota, is very limited (at least in University

Bay). It has declined in Green Lake, according to this study, from

about 50% to 10% of the total biomass over these 50 years and yet it is

still very successful in other lakes mentioned above. Can there be

chemical and/or physical parameters causing these two opposite

trends? Perhaps the increased erosion of the rich farmland in the

watershed area is changing Green Lake's bottom and its water

clarity to be more like Lake Mendota's of 1920.

Aquatic Plants Reported in 1921 But Not Collected in 1971

Four species of Potamogeton which occurred in Green Lake in

1921 were not found in the 1971 quadrat samples: P. amplifolius

Teckerm., P. foliosus Raf., P. gramineus L. and P. natans L.

However, P. natans and P. gramineus were found in other areas of

the lake during the 1971 study. P. amplifolius and P. foliosus were

not collected in quadrats nor observed elsewhere in the lake in 1971.

In Rickett’s study, these four species collectively represented a

small percentage (6.4%) of the total biomass. Further investigation

during 1972 through 1974 led to the verification of the presence of P.

amplifolius , P. nodosus Poir., and P. friessi Rupr. The narrow¬

leaved Potamogeton species (which resembles P. foliosus) was

determined by R. R. Haynes. No flowers were observed in 1971,

but, except for P. natans , fertile plants were found during

succeeding summers.

In 1921, P. amplifolius was relatively abundant at 3% of the total

biomass. Besides its apparent absence in 1971 in Green Lake, it also

was not reported in Lake Wingra (Nichols and Mori 1971) or

University Bay of Lake Mendota, although it had been a common

species in 1922 (Lind and Cottam 1969). Documentation of its

abundance in other areas are given by Modlin (1970) and Belonger

(1969). In 19 impoundments in Ontario, this aquatic plant was found

only in the least fertile impoundment with the lowest conductivity

and with Secchi disc reading of 2.2 m (McCombie and Wile 1971).

Presently in Green Lake, it does grow in beds between stations 28

and 25 (Fig. 2).

Although present in Green Lake in 1971, P. gramineus was not

recorded in any of the quadrats; its special floating leaves and

flowers were not observed in 1971 nor during the years since. This

species comprised 1.1% of the total biomass in 1921.

134

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

P. natans made up 1.2% of the total biomass in 1921. Although

seen in the lake in 1971, it was not collected in any of the quadrats.

No flowers were seen in the years since, but its floating leaves have

been observed.

P. foliosus had a wet weight of 363 g or 0.7% of the biomass in the

collections of 1921. In 1971, this species was not found in the

quadrats nor through casual sampling in the years since but a

similar plant (P. friessi) was verified in 1972 and 1973.

Minor Aquatic Plants

Several aquatics such as a moss and species of Lemna were

observed in 1971 but not in sufficient quantities for adequate

comparisons (Table 3 of Bumby 1972).

In 1921, these plants comprised 0.4% of the total biomass. Rickett

stated that a diver could sink up to his knees into beds of the moss

Drepanocladus sp., quite abundant in zones 2 and 3. Only one of the

selected stations sampled in 1971 had mosses in 1921; thus, these

plants occur but in sparse distribution.

Lemna minor L. and L. trisulca L. were found in the lake, the

latter only in very small numbers in Dartford Bay quadrats (station

40) where this tiny flowering plant was entangled with algae and

macrophytes growing on the bottom.

Neither the aquatic moss nor Lemna sp. was present in sufficient

numbers to be compared with Rickett’s results or listed except as

minute amounts or traces (X) in the figures and tables (Bumby

1972).

The Algae

Attached algae collected in Green Lake in 1921 and collected in

1971 were: Cladophora sp., Nostoc sp., Rhizoclonium sp., Rivularia

sp., Spirogyra sp., Tolypothrix sp., Ulothrix sp., Zygnema sp.

Vaucheria tuber osa (?) was not collected in 1971.

Although this study is mainly concerned with macrophytes, some

observations of the algae were made in 1971 because they are

significant in interpreting the changes in biomass in Green Lake.

Massive nuisance blooms of Cladophora sp. have appeared in Green

Lake in recent years; these growths often extend from the waterline

down to a depth of 1.5 m in rocky areas. No Cladophora problem

existed in 1921 and Rickett used a different technique for

estimation of the algal biomass. Rickett noted that sometimes

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

135

Oedogonium sp. replaced Cladophora sp. in the muddier stations

and Spirogyra sp. also grew on the plants and rocks.

In 1971, most of the algae were of the filamentous type and only a

cursory microscope examination of each sample collected in a

quadrat was made to identify the conspicuous genera. The weights

of the algae which were collected in the quadrats in each zone are on

record in Table 3 (Bumby 1972) and the weights at each station are

in Appendices A, B and C (Bumby 1972); weights of non-

filamentous algae (as Rivularia sp. and Nostoc sp.) are not included,

unless found attached to the macrophytic plants in all zones, and not

separated from these plants when they were weighed.

Algae listed above were attached either to the macrophytes or to

the rocks under shallow water. In zone 1, 24 of the 60 samples

contained filamentous algae; in zone 2, 33 of the 60 samples; while in

zone 3, only 2 out of 10 samples (actually 2 in 8, as two samples were

devoid of plants) contained weighable quantities of filamentous

algae. Their occurrence in zone 1 (from the highest to the lowest

frequency) are Cladophora sp., Rhizoclonium sp., and Spirogyra

sp., whereas in zone 2, Cladophora sp. was most abundant followed

by Rhizoclonium sp., Zygnemasp., Rivulariasp. and Tolypothrix sp.

In zone 3, Rhizoclonium sp. and Rivularia sp. were present but

sparse.

In recent years, a massive floating bloom of Spirogyra sp. has

been an unsightly covering of the lake along the shore but only on

calm days in the very early spring. Vaucheria tuberosa (?) was listed

at one station in 1921, but was not observed in the present study. The

attached filamentous algae were extremely important among the

autotrophs in Green Lake in 1971 and will be discussed further with

the macrophytic biomass changes within the zones and stations.

CHANGES IN THE PERCENTAGE OF WATER TO

DRY CONTENT FOR EACH SPECIES

The dry weight comparison for each species found in 1921 and

197 1 are listed in Table 1 as percentages of wet weights. E ight of the

12 macrophytes with comparable data were almost at the same level

of water content in both studies. For that reason I have used wet

weights in most of these comparisons but dry weights are shown in

the graphs (Figs. 7, 8 and 9) and data are in the thesis (Bumby 1972).

Comparing dry weights of the taxa eliminates the weight

variability accumulated because of the differences in both water

adhering to the outside of freshly sampled plants (due to the

136

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

TABLE 1. PERCENTAGE DRY WEIGHT IN EACH SPECIES

FOR ALL ZONES IN 1921 AND 1971

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

137

differences in leaf forms, etc.) and in the water content within the

structurally different cells of the plants (Sculthorpe 1967).

Every species in each sample collected in 1971 was weighed both

wet and dry. In contrast, Rickett dried about 12 samples of a species,

averaged the dry weights as a percentage of the wet weights and

then used these averages for estimating dry weights of these

samples. The macrophytes in 1921 had an average dry weight

percentage of 11.2; the 1971 average dry weight was 13.6% ±4.52%

S.D. The minor differences in the 1971 and 1921 dry weights may

be due to an increase in epiphytic algae and other organisms

clinging to the macrophytes, to an increase in the settling out of

particulate matter from the water, to an increase in the accuracy of

the equipment and to the differences in the technique for

determining dry weights in the two studies. The latter does not

permit a comparison of the significance of the changes in dry

weights because there is no way of estimating the within-sample

variance of Rjckett’s data.

Although no great change in the total percentage of dry weight of

the aquatic plants in Green Lake occurred over this 50 year period,

some significant variations appeared among the individual species.

Elodea canadensis indicates a three fold increase over the 1921

percentage dry weight; however, its 1921 percentage of 4.4 seems

unusually low. What may be two Myriophyllum species (as

identified in 1921 vs. 1971) have a substantial difference almost

twice what was reported in the earlier survey and Chara sp. showed

a 25% increase in 1971 weight data. Macrophytes with almost the

same dry content in both studies are as follows: C. demersum, H.

dubia, N. flexilis, P. pectinatus, P. zoster if or mis, Ranunculus spp.,

V. americana and Z. palustris.

BIOMASS CHANGES IN THE ZONES

Previously, I discussed changes of the individual taxa in total

biomass (Fig. 3); next the changes in the individual macrophyte

species collected in each zone in 1921 and 1971 as wet weights in

grams are shown graphically in Figs. 4, 5 and 6. These are based on

the numerical total wet weights (g/10 m2) which are listed for each

zone in Table 3 (Bumby 1972).

In zone 1 (Fig. 4), a shift of dominance occurred from Chara sp.

and Ceratophyllum demersum to Chara sp. and V. americana.

Altogether, 14 species were found in zone 1 in 1921 with wet weights

ranging from 2,520 to 44 g, whereas 13 species were present in 1971

138

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

with wet weight ranging only 614 to 3.3 g. The total biomass of

macrophytes of this shallow zone in 1971 was only about one-third

that in 1921. The filamentous algae were the most important

autotrophs in this zone in 1971.

0

Algae t

Ceratophyllum T

demersum -

Char a sp.

Elodea

Canadensis

Heteranthera

dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis >

Potamogeton

crispus 1

P. pectinatus r

P. Richardsonii ?

P. zosteriformis

Ranunculus spp.

i

Vallisneria

americana

Zannichellia

palustris

Other

P. amplifolius

P. foliosus

P. gramineus

P. natans

23

■if I

1400

2800 4200 5600 7000

I_ i_ I_ I

1921 l*»***l

and 1971

Moss

FIGURE 4. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 1 in 1921

and 1971

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

139

The 17 species found in 1921 in zone 2 (Fig. 5), varied in wet

weights from 12,974 to 7.0 g whereas the 15 species present in 1971

varied from 4,543.2 g to a trace (X). This involved an obvious shift

2600

5200

7800

10,400 13,000

Algae

Ceratophyllum

demersum

Char a sp.

Elodea

canadensis

Heteranthera

dubia

Myriophyllum spp.

Najas flexilis

Potamogeton

crispus

P. pectinatus

P. Richardsonii

P. zosteriformis

Ranunculus spp.

Vallisneria

americana

Zannichellia

palustris

Other

P. amplifolius

P. foliosus

P. gramineus

P. natans

Moss

FIGURE 5. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 2 in 1921

and 1971

F

1921 SUM and 1971

140

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

from Chara sp. to Myriophyllum and Vallisneria dominance at

zone 2 during the 50 year period.

Of the 13 taxa found in zone 3 (Fig. 6) 50 years ago, the wet

weights ranged down from 10,815 g. Although 11 of the 13 species

FIGURE 6. Total biomass in grams wet weight collected at zone 3 in 1921

and 1971

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

141

were present in 1971, their 3,370 g wet weights showed a reduction

of about two-thirds in zone 3 and a shift of dominance from

Ceratophyllum demersum and Char a sp. to M. spicatum and C.

demersum.

The change in the diversity of the macrophytes is not clear

because of the four Potamogeton species not found in the quadrats in

1971; it cannot be stated, then, that they moved to another zone or

that they disappeared from the lake. These include Potamogeton

amplifolius, P. foliosus, P. gramineus and P. natans which were

present in all zones in 1921 except for P. natans (not reported in zone

3 by Rickett). In 1971, Zannichellia palustris, Elodea canadensis

and P. crispus seem to be newcomers in zone 1; P. crispus and a trace

of Lemna trisulca were observed in zone 2, and in zone 3, P. crispus

was the only new plant which grew here if the changes in

identification of both the Myriophyllum genus and the Ranunculus

genus are agreeable and P. crispus was not lumped in with another

similar species in 1921.

The total wet weight biomass in zones 1 and 3 diminished

percentagewise in almost the same relationship (-73% and -74%),

while in zone 2 it decreased the least (-53%). When attached

filamentous algae were included, there is a gain in biomass in zone 1

(+16%) but still loss for both zones 2 (-48%) and zone 3 (-72%). The

zone 3 figure reflects the relatively low total of algae in the deepest

zone, while the zone 1 figure reflects the higher total weights of the

algae there (Table 7 of Bumby 1972).

CHANGES IN TOTAL BIOMASS AMONG THE SELECTED

STATIONS

Figures 7A, 8A, and 9A represent graphically the wet and dry

weights of the submerged macrophytes present in 1921 and 1971 at

each station within the separate zones. The station numbers are

arranged according to the decreasing values of the total wet weights

ing/10m2oftheplants tabulated by Rickett in 1921. Figures 7B, 8B

and 9B include the wet and dry weights of the attached filamentous

algae which were recorded in the 1971 study along with the weight

of the macrophytes. These graphs are based on the data in Bumby

(1972) Appendices A, B and C. The recent and past situations at

these stations are quantitatively presented for the macrophytes and

for the biomass of the algae in 1971 (by weight) which can be seen

when any station in B is compared with the same station in A.

142 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Stations

FIGURE 7A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weights

collected at the ten stations in zone 1 in 1921 and 1971

FIGURE 8A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weight

collected at the ten stations in zone 2 in 1921 and 1971

1977] Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971 143

FIGURE 9A. Total macrophytic biomass in grams wet and dry weights

collected at the ten stations in zone 3 in 1921 and 1971

FIGURE 7B. Zone 1 with algae included in 1971 quantities

144

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Stations

FIGURE 8B. Zone 2 with algae included in 1971 quantities

FIGURE 9R. Zone 3 with algae included in 1971 quantities

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

145

From these data, it appears that a comparison of the wet weight

biomass at the low weight stations at three zones in 1971 and 1921

showed no specific pattern of change; i.e., some stations increased

and some decreased. However, the high weight stations at all three

zones showed a definite pattern of decrease in the wet weight

biomass. The numerical decreases in total macrophyte biomass

occurred at all 1921 high weight stations at every depth in the order:

zone 1 least, zone 2 next, and zone 3 largest total decrease. At zone 3,

stations 34 and 13 were devoid of vegetation and station 38 only had

3.2 g; the first two are located at areas where sewage effluent enters

the lake (Fig. 2). This trend continues even when the weight of the

attached filamentous algae is included in the biomass. Thus, it

appears that the missing nutrients accompanying the reduction in

macrophytic biomass have not been entirely incorporated into the

attached filamentous algae growing in the littoral zone. This

suggests that most of the nutrients may be accounted for in other

biota, and the abundance of the phytoplankton (especially blue-

green algae) observed in the summer of 1971 seems to corroborate

this possibility. Although this work is chiefly on submerged

macrophytes, some obervations were made on the plankton in ten

water samples collected from three stations different from those

used for the macrophytes (see Fig. 1). Many blue-green algae were

found on or near the surface waters of the lake in 1971 including

Microcystis aeruginosa , Anabaena flos-aquae , Aphanizonemonflos-

aquae and Gloeotrichia echinulata; these were present in 50% to 70%

of the samples. Diversified populations of diatoms, green algae and

zooplankton were also present, too. (Bumby 1972).

THE PHYSICAL DATA

Secchi disc readings of Green Lake water taken in this 1971 study

and by Lueschow et al. ( 1970) place this water body within the range

of eutrophic Great Lakes such as Ontatio and Erie, according to

Beeton (1965). However, there seems to be no change in light

transmission, since Ju day’s 1942 study. The clinograde dissolved

oxygen curve is well above the minimum levels for life in 1971 and

also in the 1966 study by Hasler (1967).

DISCUSSION

Biological evidence, such as the decrease in the biomass of the

macrophytes which this study shows, is more indicative of changes

146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

in the quality of the water in Green Lake than are the physical data

collected in 1971. The 1971 stations devoid of vegetation at zone 3

(stations 34 and 13) and one with only 3.2 g (station 38) could reflect

effect of sewage; this situation may be more prevalent in other areas

of the lake not included in this study. (Fig. 2). The macrophyte

change, the increase in the seston and the assumed but un¬

documented increase in phytoplankton are probably more in¬

dicative of change in light intensity in the littoral area than shown

by the light penetration data, obtained only at Deep Station (Fig. 1).

Macrophytes are greatly affected by the intensity and quality of

light which are determined by turbidity, the color and . . the

absorptive effect of the water itself' (Reid 1961).

The overall lower biomass, found in 1971 as compared with 1921,

could be due in part to the shift in species composition. The

magnitude of the decrease of the eight species which declined was

simply much greater than the increase of the five species which

increased in total biomass (Table 3 of Bumby 1972). The 1921

average percentage of dry weight was not an important difference

to cause the lower biomass in this study (Table 1). Other studies have

shown little change in the frequency of plants through a summer

(Swindale and Curtis 1957), but the weights of the different species

of plants can vary during a summer; viz., Zannichellia palustris

and Potamogeton crispus mature early in the summer, while

Vallisneria americana matures late in the summer. However, the

similarity of collection times and techniques between Rickett’s and

the present study should rule out this problem. Belonger (1969)

cited Dane’s report of 1959 which showed that over a three year

period, there was a definite change in aquatic plant distribution in

New York ponds; thus, “. . . Appreciable changes can occur over

relatively short periods.” Consequently, the fact of analyzing only

one summer for the approximations for both the 1921 and 1971

studies cannot be ignored.

Volker and Smith (1965) listed several of these factors pertinent

to Green Lake in their study of a decrease in number and frequency

of species of aquatic flora in Lake East Okoboji over a 46 year

period. Increased human activity in and around its shores altered

several factors believed to be responsible for the change. Factors

which may be responsible for reduced vegetation are as follows;

first, the increased nutrients in the lakes from agricultural

fertilizers and increased sewage effluent from the increased

population in the area; and, second, the increased siltation and

turbidity due to real estate development in low areas, inlet waters

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

147

and motorboat activity. Sculthorpe (1967) quoted Southgate (1957)

that low concentrations of anionic detergents in most treated

sewage effluents of that period, can be deleterious to some

hydrophytes. Edmondson (1968, p. 165) points out that . . even

drainage from fertilized fields is less rich than sewage effluent . . .”

and that “. . . moderately hard- water lakes are probably more

sensitive to sewage enrichment than soft-water lakes, all other

things being equal.”

The other school of thought is presented by Lind and Cottam

(1969) who hypothesize that, because of human activity and natural

aging, lakes become rich in nutrients with consequent tremendous

increases in algae and macrophytes. This latter view does not

explain the 1971 decline in Green Lake macrophytes in all zones and

especially in the deepest zone. When the filamentous algae are

included, an increase in biomass is evident in the shallow zone as

measured in early summer; later, as the water warms, these

autotrophs disappear. Perhaps the nutrients no longer in the

macrophytes moved into the phytoplankton of the lake in 1971; more

quantitative investigations in this area would be helpful.

The decrease in the aquatic macrophytes in Green Lake could be

followed by blooms of phytoplankton, according to Mulligan (1969)

who cited the 1903 report of Kofoid that algae blooms did not occur

in a lake with large growths of benthic plants. Mulligan also wrote

of Pond’s (1905) observation that floating aquatic macroflora and

phytoplankton competed for the same nutrients. Thus, the decrease

in biomass of Chara sp. and Ceratophyllum demersum (both without

root systems) could reflect increase in the phytoplankton with their

competitive advantage of higher nutrient loading rates. However,

other plants with root systems have diminished also, according to

this study, so other factors are undoubtedly involved. The decline of

Chara sp. in Green Lake may have a very significant effect on the

lake because Schuette and Adler (1929) pointed out that this alga,

which made up about half of the macrophytes found in Rickett’s

entire study, can cause deposition of almost 1000 metric tons of

CaC03 .

In early studies, Marsh (1898) noted there was never any large

amount of “vegetable matter” in Green Lake. An Anabaena sp.

usually appeared over the entire lake in July and August for a short

time but was never enough to form a “scum” except in 1896, when an

Anabaena sp. appeared in late June and lasted into August. Marsh

also noted that diatoms were always abundant. Juday (1942)

computed that the estimated standing crop of plankton in Green

148

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Lake was 2944 kg/ha wet weight, which was one-third larger than

in Lake Mendota. Green Lake is much deeper and the clarity of the

summer water permitted the zone of photosynthesis to reach a

depth of about 15 m.

From the present study, it appears that additional seston in the

water of the littoral zone (originating from the inlet water, sheet

runoff from rich farm land and from real estate development in low

areas, motorboat activity and probably additional phytoplankton)

has changed the penetration of light so that macrophytes, especially

in the deepest littoral zone, have been significantly reduced. A

change in the dominance of Chara sp. may be particularly

significant to the total biomass results in 1971. Also, aggressive

weedy species of foreign origin, e.g., Potamogeton crispus and

Myriophyllum spicatum which are successful in polluted water,

have moved into the aquatic community.

Perhaps Green Lake, so different from Lake Mendota in 1921

(Rickett 1924), is approaching the Mendota status of 50 years ago

with Chara sp. less important, Vallisneria americana increasing in

abundance, Cladophora sp. becoming dominant in the shallow zone

among the autotrophs, and the seston in the water becoming a more

important factor.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author wishes to give appreciation and deepest thanks to the

following persons and institutions: Dr. P. B. Whitford of Universi¬

ty of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (UW-M) for suggestions and critical

reading of the manuscript; Dr. Everett J . Fee for his guidance and

assistance with the field work, taxonomy, identification of

phytoplankton, critical reading of the manuscript and for the loan

of equipment from the Center of Great Lakes Study; Dr. Charles

Nichols of Ripon College for loan of equipment and use of College

facilities; Dr. P. J. Salamun of UW-M for loan of equipment and

critical reading of manuscript; Dr. A. M. Beeton of UW-M for

critical reading of the manuscript; Margaret Summerfield for

assistance with field work and taxonomy and also for collecting

specimens for the UW-M herbarium; Dr. Scott Mori, F. M. Uhler

and Dr. R. R. Haynes for determination of several aquatic

macrophyte species; Dr. John E. Gannon for identification of

zooplankton; the late Dr. Richard P. Howmiller for titrating the

dissolved oxygen samples; Dr. Larry Claflin for the quantitative

phytoplankton work; E. Curtis Rogers for SCUBA assistance with

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes, 1921-1971

149

field work; Philip R. Haensgen whose able piloting resulted in the

aerial photographs used in thesis; Dr. Larry Miller for the use of his

depth finder; E . B. Boston and Arthur Carter for the use of their

motorboats.

The author especially wishes to extend her appreciation to her

parents — the late Mr. and Mrs. J. Harold Bumby — who helped

this study in innumerable ways.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Beeton, A. M. 1965. Eutrophication of the St. Lawrence Great Lakes.

Limnol. Oceanogr. 10:240-54.

Belonger, B . J. 1969. Aquatic plant survey of major lakes in the Fox River

(Illinois) watershed. Research Rpt. No. 39. Wis. Dept. Nat. resources.

Bumby, M. J. 1972. Changes in Submerged Macrophytes in Green Lake,

Wisconsin from 1921 to 1971. Unpublished MS thesis. University of

Wisconsin-Milwaukee. 114 pp.

Dane, C . W. 1959. Succession of aquatic plants in small artificial marshes

in New York State. N. Y. Fish, Game Jour. 1:57-76.

Edmondson, W. T., ed. 1963. Ward and Whipple's Fresh Water Biology.

2nd Edition. J. Wiley and Sons, N. Y. 1248 pp.

Edmondson, W. T. 1968. Water-quality management and lake eutrophica¬

tion: The Lake Washington case. Water Resources Management and

Public Policy. Seattle: Univ. Wash. Press, pp. 139-178.

Fassett, N. C. 1960. A Manual of Aquatic Plants. Univ. Wis. Press.

Madison. 405 pp.

Hasler, A . D. 1967. Biological aspects of eutrophication in Wisconsin lakes

Mendota, Crystal, Trout and Green. Progress Rept. No. 4. Lab. of Limnol.

Mimeo. 27 pp.

Hotchkiss, N. 1967. Underwater and floating-leaved plants of the United

States and Canada. No. 44. Pub. Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife.

U.S. Govt. Printing Office, Wash. D.C. 124 pp.

Juday, C. 1914. The inland lakes of Wisconsin, II. The hydrography and

morphology of the lakes. Bull. No. 27, Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Surv.

Madison, 137 pp.

150

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Juday, C. 1942. The summer standing crop of plants and animals in four

Wisconsin lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 34:103-135.

Lind, C. T. and G. Cottam. 1969. The submerged aquatics in University

Bay: A study of eutrophication. Am. Midi. Nat. 81:353-369.

Livingston, R. B., and P. A. Bentley. 1964. The role of aquatic vascular

plants in the eutrophic selected lakes in Western Massachusetts. Water

Resources Research Center. U. Mass. 80 pp.

Lueschow, L. A., J. M. Helm, D. R. Winter, and G. W. Karl. 1970.

Trophic nature of selected Wisconsin lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts,

Lett. 58:237-264.

Marsh, C. D. 1898. On the limnetic Crustacea of Green Lake. Trans. Wis.

Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 11:179-224.

Marsh, C . D. and E . F . Chandler. 1898. Hydrographic Map of Green Lake,

Green Lake County, Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. and Nat. Hist. Survey.

Marter, J. H., and R. N. Cheetham, Jr. 1971. A real measurement and

nomenclature of watersheds in the southeastern Wisconsin rivers basin.

Ref. Rept. No. 10. U.S. Dept, of Agri. 78 pp.

McCombie, A . M., and I . Wile. 1971. Ecology of aquatic vascular plants in

southern Ontario impoundments. Weed Sci. 19:225-228.

Modlin, R. F. 1970. Aquatic plant survey of Milwaukee River watershed

lakes. Res. Rept. No. 52. Wis. Dept. Nat. Resources. 45 pp.

Moyle, J. B. 1945. Some chemical factors influencing the distribution of

aquatic plants in Minnesota. Am. Midi. Nat. 34:402-420.

Muenscher, W. C. 1944. Aquatic Plants of the United States. Comstock

Publ., Cornell Univ., Ithaca, N. Y. 374 pp.

Mulligan, H. F. 1969. Management of aquatic vascular plants and algae.

Eutrophication: Causes, Consequences, Correctives. Nat’l Acad, of Sci.,

Washington, D.C. 661 pp.

Nichols, S. A., and S. Mori. 1971. The littoral macrophyte vegetation of

Lake Wingra. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 59:107-119.

Ogden. E. C. 1943. The broad-leaved species of Potamogeton of North

America, north of Mexico. Rhodora 45:57-105.

1977]

Bumby — Green Lake Macrophytes , 1921-1971

151

Pietenpol, W. B. 1918. Selective absorption in the visible spectrum of

Wisconsin lake waters. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 19:562-593.

Pond, R. H. 1905. The relation of aquatic plants to the substratum. Rep.

U.S. Fish. Comm. 19:483-526.

Reid, G. K. 1961. Ecology of Inland Waters and Estuaries. Van Nostrand

Reinhold Co., N. Y. 375 pp.

Rickett, W. H. 1922. A quantitative study of the larger aquatic plants of

Lake Mendota. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 20:501-527.

Rickett, W. H. 1924. A quantitative study of the larger aquatic plants of

Green Lake, Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 21:381-414.

Schuette, H . A., and H . Adler. 1929. A note on the chemical composition of

Chara from Green Lake, Wisconsin. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett.

24:141-145.

Sculthorpe, C. D. 1967. The Biology of Aquatic Vascular Plants. Edward

Arnold Ltd. London. 610 pp.

Smith, G. M. 1920. The phytoplankton of the inland lakes of Wisconsin.

Part I. Myxophyceae, Phaeophyceae, Heterokonteae, and Chlorophyceae

exclusive of the Desmidaceae. Bull. No. 57 Wis. Geol. Nat. Hist. Surv.

Madison, Wis. 243 pp.

Swindale, D. N., and J. T. Curtis. 1957. Phytosociology of the larger

submerged plants in Wisconsin lakes. Ecology 38:397-407.

Volker, R., and S . G . Smith. 1965. Changes in the aquatic vascular flora in

Lake East Okoboji in historic times. Proc. Iowa Acad. Sci. 72:65-72.

PHOTOSYNTHESIS OF THE SUBMERGENT

MACROPHYTE CERATOPHYLLUM DEMERSUM

IN LAKE WINGRA

Piero Guilizzoni

Pallanza (Novara) Italy

ABSTRACT

Apparent photosynthesis of Ceratophyllum demersum was

measured in fall 1975 by a 14C technique for a preliminary

evaluation of its productivity. Productivity decline with depth was

correlated with diminishing irradiance; laboratory studies in¬

dicate, however, that the decline in productivity was also controlled

by increasing tissue age and reduction in leaf/stem ratio. The

saturated photosynthetic rate of 2.3 mg C-g-1 (dry weight) -hr-1 for

C. demersum was attained at 650-700 pE m-^sec-1 at a water

temperature of 21 C.

INTRODUCTION

A number of studies (Wetzel, 1975) show that primary productivi¬

ty of macrophytes can be an important parameter in aquatic

ecosystems. Most lakes are small and shallow (Wetzel and Allen,

1972) with a well-defined littoral zone colonized by aquatic plants

which effect fixation, utilization and transformation of energy.

Macrophytic communities are often more productive than

phytoplankton (Westlake, 1965). Submersed macrophytes may

provide the greatest single input to the benthic carbon budget (Rich

et a/., 1971).

Lake Wingra is a small, eutrophic, alkaline lake within the city

limits of Madison, Wisconsin. Ceratophyllum demersum , in Lake

Wingra, grows in scattered patches anchored in the soft sediment

within the Myriophyllum spicatum community which dominates

the littoral zone (Nichols and Mori, 1971). Although of secondary

importance to M. spicatum in Lake Wingra, C. demersum

dominates the submersed aquatic vegetation in several southern

Wisconsin impoundments.

I conducted experiments under laboratory conditions and “in

situ” using a carbon-14 technique to obtain measurements of

photosynthetic rates of shoot sections and to examine factors

influencing differences in these rates. Meyer (1939) studied the

152

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

153

daily cycle of apparent photosynthesis of C. demersum and found a

correlation with the daily curve for solar radiation. Effects of

turbidity and depth on photosynthesis have been investigated by

Meyer and Heritage (1941), while Carr (1969a) has given more

attention to light intensity, light quality and water flow. She found

that production of C. demersum increased with current of the water

up to 0.54 cm- sec-1. Carbon source, pH, temperature and effect of

nitrogen supply on photosynthesis of C. demersum also influence

photosynthesis (Carr, 1969b; Goulder, 1970; Goulder and Boatman,

1971). Depth distribution of photosythetic tissue, and light

adaptation affect the total photosynthetic productivity in

Myriophyllum spicatum (Adams et al ., 1974). I have considered the

photosynthetic response to light and depth distribution of biomass

with the other important factors controlled. These data for Lake

Wingra allow a preliminary comparison between C. demersum and

the littoral dominant M. spicatum characterized by Adams and co¬

workers (Adams et al ., 1974).

MATERIALS AND METHODS

Field studies

Photosynthesis of Ceratophyllum demersum within the

Myriophyllum spicatum community.

a. Natural Photosynthesis Profile. Shoots grown in 2 m water

depth were collected the morning of September 11, 1975, cut into

15-30 cm sections of 0.25-0.82 g dry weight, and incubated in 510 ml

glass bottles at their natural depth. Bottles were filled with lake

water to which 2 ml of 14C-NaHC03 (specific activity of 1.5 p

Ci-ml-1) were added. Period of incubation was 1 hr. Two dark

bottles were also employed. At the end of each incubation the plants

were briefly rinsed in 0. 1 N HC 1 to remove any 14C-monocarbonates

precipitated on the leaf surfaces during the experiment. Then they

were quickly frozen in liquid nitrogen to stop photosynthesis.

The plant samples were returned to the laboratory, lyophilyzed,

dried for two days, and weighed. Leaves and stems of each section

were isolated and analyzed separately. The dried samples were

ground to powder and 10 mg subsamples were wrapped in ashless

filter paper (Whatman #40) and combusted in oxygen in a chamber

described by Adams et al. (1974). Evolved 14C-C02 was trapped in 5

ml of ethanolamine, an aliquot (0.2 ml) of which was pipetted into a

154

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

modified Bray’s solution (Bray, 1960) and counted in a Packard Tri-

Carb scintillation counter. Water samples were titrated to

determine total alkalinity, as mg.CaC03 l-1 (Am. Public Health

Assoc., 1965). From the alkalinity, pH and temperature, total

carbon was calculated from the table of conversion coefficients of

Saunders, et al. ( 1962). Photosynthetic rates were expressed as mg C

per g dry weight of plant per hour and were calculated from the 14C

data with an isotope correction factor of 1.06, with correction for

dark fixation of carbon.

Net irradiance during the experiment was measured with a

recording pyranometer (Belfort) and the photosynthetically active

radiation (PhAR) with a Lambda Quantum-sensor LI-170; the

results are expressed as langleys-min-1 (= cal-cm-^min-1) and juE

m-^sec-1, respectively.

b. Terminal portions (20 cm) from shoots collected near the

bottom (water depth of 1.60 m) were used. Following the same 14C

procedure, the growing tips were incubated on the afternoon of

October 3, 1975 at four depths within the water column (subsurface,

0.5, 1.0 and 1.60 m). Plant material varied between 0.3-0. 6 g dry

weight. This experiment was designed to isolate the effects of light

and temperature on photosynthesis, holding other factors relatively

constant.

Laboratory studies

a. Photosynthesis profile of Ceratophyllum demersum exposed to

constant light and at a water temperature of 25C.

C. demersum was collected on August 25, 1975. Whole plants were

placed in a 4.5 1 Plexiglas cylinder chamber and incubated for 1 hr.

in lake water previously filtered through a glass fiber filter paper

(Whatman GFC) to which 20 ml (30 \i Ci) of 14C-NaHC03 were

added. C. demersum was exposed at saturating light intensity from

a Lucalox lamp; a current flow of 2 1 -min-1 ensured adequate

mixing of 14C solution and uniform temperature within the

chamber. After the exposure periods, the entire plants were

removed and cut into 10 cm sections. Carbon-14 distribution in

different plant sections was determined by the same procedure

described previously.

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

155

b. Photosynthesis-light intensity curve of growing tips.

Apical portions of shoots of C. demersum were collected on

September 18, 1975. For each of seven different light intensities,

three replicates were incubated the next morning in filtered lake

water; again, measurements were made in 1 hr. periods. Two ml

(3.0 f± Ci) of 14C-NaHC03 were added to each 510 ml glass bottle.

Dark bottles were also incubated in the course of this experiment.

Temperature was controlled at 21 ± 1 C (temperature of lake water

at that time) by placing bottles in a water bath. Temperature, and

initial and final pH, were recorded every time.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

The natural photosynthesis profile of Ceratophyllum demersum

“rooted” in 2 m of water, is shown in Fig. 1 . Temperature and Ph AR

at incubation depth, percent of total plant photosynthesis and

percent of total plant weight are shown for each stem section.

Average surface irradiance during the incubation period was 0.28

ly-min-1. Temperature decreased negligibly from the surface to the

bottom (20.3-19.7). The first stem section (growing tips) had a

photosynthetic rate of 3.40 mg C-g dry wt-1- hr-1 expressed on total

weight basis, well above the value of 1.06 mg C- g-^hr-1 for C.

demersum from Conneaut Lake (Western Pennsylvania) on 2

September presented by Wetzel (1965). The rate declined quickly to

zero with increasing depth in association with rapidly attenuated

light and gradually increasing stem/leaf ratio and tissue age. The

most productive sections are the first two, with 84% of total

productivity. This result is due, apart from the influence of light

and stem/leaf ratio, to the greater biomass concentration which is

found within 30 cm of the surface (33% of total plant weight) (Fig. 1).

Dark carbon fixation is 0.21 mg C-g dry wt-^hr-1 and seems to have

a significant effect on apparent photosynthesis, unlike in

Myriophyllum spicatum (Adams et a/., 1974). In comparison with

the August 14, 1972 photosynthesis of M. spicatum in Lake Wingra

(Adams et al. , 1974), C. demersum plants show a much more rapid

reduction of 14C-uptake from growing tips to the bottom.

I have separately analyzed the leaves and stems of the same plant

presented in Fig. 1, first to assess stem contribution to total

photosynthetic productivity and, second, to evaluate variation due

to changes in quantities of photosynthetic tissue with depth. Figure

2 indicates that, if translocation of 14C-labeled photosynthate did not

156

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

0 30 60 90 120 150 180 200

DISTANCE FROM GROWING TIP (cm)

7.5 22.5 45 75 97.5112.5 1275 150 180 197.5

INCUBATION DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 1. Apparent photosynthesis of 15-30 cm shoot sections of

Ceratophyllum demersum incubated at natural depths within

the Myriophyllum spicatum community on September 11,

1975.

occur, stem tissue is photosynthetically much less active than leaf

tissue. The marked decline in apparent photosynthesis along the C.

demersum shoot was not offset by conversion to a leaf weight basis,

in contrast with data for M. spicatum (Adams et al., 1974).

The photosynthesis profile of C. demersum under laboratory

conditions is shown in Fig. 3 with the photosynthetic rates, light

intensity, percent of total plant photosynthesis and percent of total

weight. Again, the greatest photosynthetic rate occurs at the top

(3.26 mg Cg dry wt-^hr-O.flbut in this case there was an apparent

plateau of photosynthetic rates near the surface (56% of the total

photosynthetic productivity occurred in the first two segments),

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis , C. demersum

157

followed by a pronounced decline in the last three stem sections.

With the light, temperature, current flow and water chemistry

effectively constant, the different photosynthetic rates are probably

due to the tissue age and stem/leaf ratio differences.

Figure 4 points out the effect of the variable natural light regime

on photosynthesis. Since only growing tips were used, tissue age and

stem/leaf ratio were relatively constant, as was temperature. With

a mean surface irradiance of 0.30 ly-min-1, C uptake declined

markedly from 1.40 mg C-g dry wt-1 -hr-1 at the surface to less than

0.2 mg C-g dry wt-^hr-1 at 1.60 m.

t — T ' I — r- 1 ■ \ 1 T 1 1 T 1 R— ■

O 30 60 90 120 150 180 200

7.5 22.5 45 75 97.5112.5 1275 150 180 1975

WATER DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 2. Carbon uptake of 15-30 cm sections of Ceratophyllum

demersum incubated at natural depths within the

Myriophyllum spicatum community. A. Stems; B. Leaves. 11

September 1975.

158

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 65

r 40

30

h2o y

Ho £

CL

L0

PhAR, MICROEINSTEINS m-2 sec-'

PER CENT OF TOTAL PLANT PHOTOSYNTHESIS

PER CENT OF TOTAL PLANT WEIGHT

DISTANCE FROM GROWING TIP (cm)

FIGURE 3. Vertical distribution of carbon-14 fixation of Ceratophyllum

demersum under laboratory conditions. Water temperature

25 C, pH 8.8; alkalinity 124 mg CaCOg-l-1.

The control of photosynthesis by light was quantified in the

laboratory (Fig. 5). The light saturated photosynthetic rate of C.

demersum apical shoots at 650-700 p E.m-2-sec-l ( = 0.5

cahcm-^min-1) and 21 ± 1 C was 2.30 mg C-g-1 (dry weight) -hr-1.

Spence and Chrystal (1970) found a low saturation irradiance of

0.02 cahcm-2*min-1 for Potamogeton obtusifolius; W. Stone (per¬

sonal communication) found saturated photosynthetic rate of 8.9

mg C-g-1 (dry weight)-hr-1 at about 1000 pE-m-^sec-1 for Lake

Wingra M. spicatum in September.

Tailing (1957) introduced a parameter Ik, the irradiance at which

a straight line representing the initial slope of the light curve

intersects a line representing the saturated photosynthetic rate; Ik

is considered a measure of light-temperature adaptation and the

onset of light saturation (Vollenweider, 1974). Calculating the

initial slope of the C. demersum light curve by regression (r = 0.95)

gives an Ik of 250 pE-m-^sec-1. M. spicatum in September has an

1977]

Guillizzoni — Photosynthesis, C. demersum

159

INCUBATION DEPTH (cm)

FIGURE 4. Apparent photosynthesis of growing tips of Ceratophyllum

demersum incubated at four different depths within the

community on October 3, 1975. Vertical bars are ranges.

FIGURE 5. Apparent photosynthesis light curve of growing tips of

Ceratophyllum demersum (3 replicates) on September 19,

1975. Circles are mean values; vertical bars are ranges.

Water temperature 21 C; alkalinity 144 mg CaC03 l-1; pH

8.7. Concerning Ik, see the text.

Ik of about 800 ^E-rn-^-sec-1 (W. Stone, personal communications).

This indicates that C. demersum may be considered a “shade”

species as suggested by Carr (1969b). The full significance of this

shade adaptation is little studied, although others have recognized

160

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, A rts and Letters [Vol. 65

“sun” and “shade” adapted aquatic macrophytes (Carr, 1969b;

Spence and Chrystal, 1970; Spence et al. , 1973).

Factors controlling the photosynthetic rates with depth of C.

denier sum. include light, tissue age and stem/leaf ratio. Compared

with M. spicatum , the dominant species in the Lake Wingra littoral

macrophyte community, C. demersum may be characterized as a

species adapted to low light intensity. Experiments in other seasons

and further information about competition and relationships

between these two species would be useful for studies of the

dynamics and evolution of the littoral zone.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My sincere thanks to Professor M. S. Adams and his group for the

use of the laboratory, assistance and friendship. I am much

indebted to J. E. Titus, M. J. Lechowicz and W. H. Stone, for reading

the manuscript and offering many helpful suggestions. This

research was supported by the Istituto Italiano di Idrobiologia.

Pallanza, Italy and by National Science Foundation grant #BMS75-

19777 to the Institute for Environmental Studies, University of

Wisconsin, Madison (M. S. Adams, Department of Botany,

Principal Investigator).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Adams, M. S., J. E. Titus and M. D. McCracken. 1974. Depth distribution of

photosynthetic activity in a Myriophyllum spicatum community in Lake

Wingra. Limnol. Oceanogr. 19: 377-389.

American Public Health Association. 1965. Standard Methods for the

Examination of Water and Wastewater , 12 th ed.

Bray, G. A. 1960. A simple efficient liquid scintillator for counting aqueous

solution in a liquid scintillation counter. Anal. Biochem. 1: 279-285.

Carr, J. L. 1969a. The primary productivity and physiology of

Ceratophyllum demersum. I. Gross macro primary productivity. Aust. J.

Mar. Freshwater Res. 20: 115-126.

Carr, J. L. 1969b. The primary productivity and physiology of

Ceratophyllum demersum. II. Micro-primary productivity, pH, and the

P/R ratio. Aust. J. Mar. Freshwater Res. 20: 127-142.

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Goulder, R. 1970. Day-time variations in the rates of production by two

natural communities of submerged freshwater macrophytes. J. Ecol. 58:

521-528.

Goulder, R., and D. J. Boatman. 1971. Evidence that nitrogen supply

influences the distribution of a freshwater macrophyte, Ceratophyllum

demersum. J. Ecol. 59: 783-791.

Meyer, B. S. 1939. The daily cycle of apparent photosynthesis in a

submerged aquatic. Am. Jour. Bot. 26: 755-760.

Meyer, B. S., and A. C. Heritage. 1941. Effect of turbidity and depth of

immersion on apparent photosynthesis in Ceratophyllum demersum.

Ecology 22: 17-22.

Nichols, S. A., and S. Mori. 1971. The littoral macrophyte vegetation of

Lake Wingra. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts, Lett. 59: 107-119.

Rich, P. H., R. G. Wetzel and N. V. Thuy. 1971. Distribution, production

and role of aquatic macrophytes in a southern Michigan marl lake.

Freshwater Biol. 1: 3-21.

Saunders, G. W., F. B. Trama and R. W. Bachmann. 1962. Evaluation of a

modified 14C technique for shipboard estimation of photosynthesis in

large lakes. Mich. Univ. Great Lake Res. Div. Pub. 8: 61 pp.

Spence, D.H.N., and J. Chrystal. 1970. Photosynthesis and zonation of

freshwater macrophytes. 2. Adaptability of species of deep and shallow

water. New Phytol. 69: 217-227.

Spence, D.H.N., R. M. Campbell and J. Chrystal. 1973. Specific leaf areas

and zonation of freshwater macrophytes. Jour. Ecol. 61: 317-328.

Tailing, J. F. 1957. Photosynthetic characteristics of some freshwater

plankton diatoms in relation to underwater radiation. New Phytol. 56: 1-

50.

Vollenweider, R. A. 1974. A Manual on Methods for Measuring Primary

Production in Aquatic Environments. IBP Handbook No. 12, Blackwell

Sci. Pub. Oxford.

Westlake, D. F. 1965. Some basic data for investigations of the productivity

of aquatic macrophytes. Mem. 1st. Ital. Idrobiol., 18 Suppl.: 229-248.

Wetzel, R. G. 1965. Techniques and problems of primary productivity

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

measurements in higher aquatic plants and periphyton. Mem. 1st. Ital.

Idrobiol., 18 Suppl.: 249-267.

Wetzel, R. G. 1975. Limnology. W. B. Saunders Co. Philadelphia. 743 pp.

Wetzel, R. G., and H. L. Allen. 1972. “Functions and interactions of

dissolved organic matter and the littoral zone in lake metabolism and

eutrophication.” In: Productivity Problems of Freshwater. Z. Kajak and

A. Hillbricht-Ilkowska, Ed.: 333-347.

THE EFFECTS OF MADISON METROPOLITAN

WASTEWATER EFFLUENT ON WATER QUALITY

IN BADFISH CREEK, YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS

G. Fred Lee

University Texas

— Dallas

INTRODUCTION

In December, 1959, the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District

(MMSD), acting pursuant to the directions of the Legislature in

Section 144.05 (1) of the Wisconsin Statutes, initiated diversion of

their wastewater effluents from the Yahara River between Lakes

Monona and Waubesa, to the Badfish Creek, which empties into the

Yahara and Rock Rivers below Lake Kegonsa. This diversion was

accomplished by the construction of a $3.5 million pipeline and

diversion ditch from the Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant to

Badfish Creek. The purpose of diversion was to improve water

quality in Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa by reducing the amounts of

aquatic plant nutrients discharged to these lakes. Additional

information on the diversion is discussed in Mackenthun et al.

(1960), Wisniewski (1961), Wisconsin Department of Natural

Resources (undated) and Teletzke ( 1953). It is generally agreed that

this diversion did improve water quality in the two lower lakes

(Lawton, 1961; Sonzogni and Lee, 1974). However, while the

diversion of the Madison effluents lowered the nutrient levels

within these lakes, the concentrations present after diversion were

still sufficient to produce excessive growths of algae. These

nutrients are primarily derived from urban and rural runoff,

groundwater and the atmosphere (Sonzogni and Lee, 1975).

One of the frequently asked questions about this diversion was its

effect on the Badfish Creek and Yahara and Rock Rivers.

Beginning in 1953, stations on the Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock

Rivers have been sampled on a weekly to bi-weekly basis and

analyzed for biochemical oxygen demand (BOD), dissolved oxygen

(DO), suspended solids, nonvolatile solids, soluble and total

phosphate, ammonia, nitrite, nitrate, organic nitrogen and

coliforms at approximately 20 locations by the Madison

Metropolitan Sewerage District. This paper presents a review of

the chemical data and discusses the water quality in the Badfish

Creek, Rock and Yahara Rivers based on the MMSD data.

163

164

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

DATA REDUCTION

Because of the large amounts of data available (over 50,000 data

points), overall means and standard deviations were computed for

each of the parameters measured at each of the sampling stations.

The overall mean concentration should give a reliable estimate of

the trends of water quality at each of the stations for the study

period, generally from 1953 through 1970. The standard deviation

for the data at any one station for any particular parameter gives a

measure of the variability of the data from the mean. The data for

the annual means with the various chemical parameters is

presented in a report by Lee and Veith (1971). The sampling

stations used by the MMSD are presented in Table 1 and Fig. 1.

The weekly to bi-weekly data on the concentrations of various

chemical contaminants in the receiving waters for the Madison

Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant effluent (MMSD-STP)

provide a good index to water quality at that location in the

receiving streams. The data, however, do not provide quantitative

information on the relative significance of various sources of these

contaminants. In order to make quanitative estimates of this type,

discharge measurements of each of the tributary sources must be

available. In general, discharge information was not available with

the result that this paper has to discuss the effects of the Madison

TABLE 1. SAMPLING STATIONS: BADFISH CREEK,

YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS

Sampling stations indicated are the same as those used by the Madison Metropolitan

Sewerage District.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

165

FIGURE 1. SAMPLING LOCATIONS ON THE BADFISH CREEK,

YAHARA AND ROCK RIVERS.

Nine Springs Sewage Plant effluent on the receiving waters in a

qualitative to semi-quantitive manner.

Quality of the Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant Effluent

The Madison Nine Springs Sewage Treatment Plant (STP) of the

Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District is a primary and

166

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

secondary treatment facility. It is designed to remove suspended

solids and oxygen demand in the form of BOD (biochemical oxygen

demand). The plant consists of primary sedimentation tanks

followed by either trickling filters or activated sludge aeration

tanks with approximately 72 percent of the flow passing through

the activated sludge treatment process. Both the activated sludge

and trickling filter process water go to secondary settling tanks, the

effluent of which is chlorinated and pumped via the 1959 diversion

pipeline and ditch to the Badfish Creek. The solids removed in the

primary and secondary sedimentation tanks from the trickling

filter part of the plant, and the waste activated sludge obtained

from the secondary sedimentation tanks of the activated sludge part

of the plant, are combined and digested at elevated temperatures.

The digesters are fixed-cover, completely mixed systems. The

digested sludge is pumped to sludge-holding tanks and then to

sludge lagoons located adjacent to the STP. In 1962-63, during the

time that the plant was expanded to handle an additional wasteload,

the digester supernatant was pumped with the sludge to the lagoon.

TABLE 2. MADISON NINE SPRINGS SEWAGE TREAT¬

MENT PLANT AVERAGE FLOWS, EFFLUENT

BOD AND SUSPENTED SOLIDS*

*Data based on information provided in the annual reports of the Metropolitan

Sewerage Commission.

**Million gallons per day.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

167

Prior to that it was returned to the sedimentation tank. Since the

summer of 1970 some of the liquid present in the sludge lagoons was

pumped back to the primary tanks.

From an overall point of view the MMSD-STP is doing an

excellent job in removing suspended solids and BOD (see Table 2).

Normally, plants of this type have a residual BOD in the order of 20

mg/1 after treatment. During the period from 1964 to 1970, the

MMSD-STP achieved an effluent BOD of approximately 20 mg/1.

In 1961 through 1963, when the plant was under construction for

expansion, the BOD in the effluent became approximately twice this

value, indicating relatively poor treatment compared to what could

be achieved, and what was previously achieved.

The total suspended solids in the MMSD-STP effluent since the

plant has been reconstructed has averaged about 20 to 25 mg/1,

which indicates a good removal of solid material. As in the case of

BOD, there were high values of suspended solids found only during

1961-1963 construction period.

These results are in accord with the report from the Wisconsin

Department of Natural Resources (Wis. DNR, 1971) in which they

stated that in a 19-month period, from February 1969 through

August, 1970, the average effluent BOD from the plant was 20.1

mg/1, and the average suspended solid concentration 23.0 mg/1 They

concluded that the present treatment efficiency was good.

It should be noted that in the period since the 1959 diversion, the

flow in the MMSD-STP has increased from about 20 million gallons

per day (mgd) to approximately 31 mgd. Also, it should be noted

that in 1962-63, at the time of plant expansion, the flows were

approximately 22 mgd. Therefore, since the last expansion, the

flows have increased approximately 9 mgd and the plant has still

maintained a high treatment efficiency with good removal of BOD

and suspended solids.

Effect of Treated Effluent on the Badfish Creek

The prediversion data were generally taken at Stations 1, 3, 4, 8,

9, and 10 for the period 1953-58 for BOD5 , nonvolatile suspended

solids, nitrate, nitrite, and ammonia. In general, 237 samples were

taken from these stations for these parameters. Prediversion

sampling of Station 8 did not start until 1956, in which time 110

samples were taken. Total phosphorus, soluble phosphate and

organic nitrogen prediversion samples were collected from Stations

1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10, 14A, 15, 16 and 17. The post diversion samples were

168

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

taken from all stations listed in Table 1 from 1959-1970 during

which time approximately 395 samples were taken from each

station.

In the period 1953 to the present, the MMSD has sampled at

weekly, and later at bi-weekly intervals at three locations in the

Badfish Creek. In addition, some samples have been taken from the

wastewater in the diversion ditch before the water enters the

Badfish Creek North Branch. Also, routine sampling has been

conducted on the South Branch of the Badfish Creek. Station 1

represents the composition of the North Branch of the Badfish

Creek at a point below where the MMSD-STP effluent enters this

creek (see Fig. 1). At this point, the Badfish Creek contains the

sewage treatment plant effluent from the Village of Oregon, storm

water drainage from Oregon, the effluent from the MMSD-STP

effluent and any drainage arising from agricultural lands. It is

estimated that approximately 50 to 80 percent of the flow at this

station is derived from the MMSD-STP effluent. The Village of

Oregon expanded its wastewater treatment facility in 1969. It is

expected that this plant should achieve BOD and suspended solid

removals such that its effluent should have approximately the same

characteristics as that of the MMSD-STP. This would not have been

true prior to the reconstruction of this plant. However, when mixed

in the Badfish Creek, because of the relatively large discharges of

MMSD effluent, it is estimated that MMSD-STP contributes about

99 percent of the wasteload (Wis. DNR, 1971) to the Badfish Creek

at Station 1.

BOD and Dissolved Oxygen

Prior to the introduction of the MMSD-STP effluent to the

Badfish Creek, the BOD 5 in the Creek at Station 1 ranged from 4 to

7 mg/1 (see Table 3). After diversion it has increased to ap¬

proximately 20 mg/1, with a maximum in 1962 and 1963 of 27 and 31

mg/1, respectively for the annual average BOD5 . Since the

expansion of the plant in 1963, the annual average of BOD- at

Station 1 has been in the order of 12 to 17 mg/1. A comparison

between the STP effluent and this station’s data shows that there is

a reduction in the BOD5 from the effluent at the STP to Station 1.

This reduction is probably due to dilution from the Badfish Creek

water and due to removal of BOD through sedimentation and

biochemical processes in the diversionary pipe and ditch.

OVERALL MEAN CONCENTRATIONS OF SELECTED CONTAMINANTS IN THE MMSD

EFFLUENT, DIVERSION DITCH, BADFISH CREEK AND YAHARA RIVER

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

169

to CL Q

CL Q

CL Q

OT >

<1 CL 5

cl q

PL Q

CL Q

CL Q

CL Q

P* "S

EH o

CO CL

I I

CL

be

£

*Post div = Post wastewater diversion

**Pre div = Pre wastewater diversion

170

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

The suspended solids data for Station 1 show that (Table 3), in

general, they are approximately the same as the MMSD-STP

effluent, although occasionally some relatively high values are

found which are probably derived from storm water drainage from

the Village of Oregon and agricultural lands.

The best way to examine the effect of the STP effluent BOD on

water quality at Station 1 on the Badfish is to examine the dissolved

oxygen levels at this station. In the case of dissolved oxygen, annual

means should not be used for comparison purposes, since it is the

critically low DO values which are of importance to aquatic

organisms. Examination of the data (see Lee and Veith, 1971) for

Station 1 shows that at several times during each year the dissolved

oxygen (DO) levels at this station are less than 3 mg/1, and

frequently are less than 1 mg/1, especially during the summer and

fall of 1970. Normally, a DO of 5mg/l or more is desirable (US EPA,

1976), with 3 to 4 mg/1 being the minimum for maintenance of some

of the desirable forms of fish. It is concluded that the dissolved

oxygen concentrations at Station 1 are sufficiently low to have a

significant adverse effect on aquatic life at this location.

In order to ascertain whether it is the MMSD-STP effluent or

some other conditions which are causing this low DO at Station 1,

examination of the data from Stations A and B should be made.

Station A is located at the effluent from the cascade aerator at the

point where the effluent enters the diversion ditch from the

pipeline. Station B is approximately one half mile from this pointon

the diversion ditch. In general, in recent years the effluent from the

cascade aerator has run between 4 to 8 mg/1 of dissolved oxygen. By

Station B occasionally zero DO values have been reported, with

frequent values less than 3 mg/1. Generally, whenever low values

are reported at Station B, even lower values are reported at Station

1. Further study will be necessary to ascertain the relative flow

times and the expected rates of BOD exertion in the diversion ditch

between the cascade aerator and Station 1 . However, from a cursory

examination of the data, it can be expected that there would be a

significant reduction in the amount of dissolved oxygen in this ditch

due to residual BOD present in the MMSD-STP effluent.

Prior to the 1959 diversion, data collected by the Committee on

Water Pollution, State of Wisconsin (Mackenthun et ai, 1960 and

Wisniewski, 1961), and the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage

District show that low dissolved oxygen values were found at

Station 1. At times, essentially zero dissolved oxygen was found at

this station. It is possible that the low dissolved oxygen values found

1977]

Lee — Water Quality, Badfish- Yahara-Rock

171

at Station 1 prior to diversion were due to the discharge of

wastewaters from the Village of Oregon to the Badfish Creek. Since

the 1959 diversion, this pattern has not changed to any significant

extent. The primary difference in the data before and after

diversion is with respect to Stations 4 and 8. Both the Committee on

Water Pollution and the MMSD data show that no critically low

dissolved oxygen values were found at the lower two stations in the

Badfish Creek prior to diversion. However, after diversion

occasionally low dissolved oxygen values were found.

Examination of the DO and BOD5 data for Station 4, which is

located about four miles downstream on the Badfish Creek below

Station 1, shows that occasionally critically low DO concentrations

are encountered at this station, which can be attributable to the

MMSD-STP effluent. The South Branch of the Badfish Creek joins

the North Branch between Stations 1 and 4. Examination of the

data for DO and BOD5 for station 3 on the South Branch of the

Badfish, shows that it does not contribute to the low DO values

which are observed at Station 4. If anything, it would tend to raise

the DO values at Station 4 slightly above what would be

encountered without the dilution water brought in from South

Branch.

The critically low DO values shown in the MMSD data for

Stations 1 and 4 are supported by the Department of Natural

Resources 1971 Report in which they state on page 32 (Wis. DNR,

1971) that in this reach of the stream the organisms found are

indicative of high levels of pollution just below the outfall, while at

Station 4, the stream is considered to be in a semi-polluted

condition.

The next station that was routinely sampled by the MMSD on the

Badfish Creek was Station 8, which is located just above the

confluence of the Badfish Creek with the Yahara River. Station 8 is

approximately 12 miles below Station 4. Between these two stations

several small tributaries enter the Creek. In addition, it can be

expected that during periods of rainfall appreciable amounts of

pollutional materials derived from agricultural lands, such as crop

land, small feed-lot operations, and drainage of marshes, would

contribute to the wasteload of the stream. Of particular importance

would be the drainage from wetlands. Lee, Bentley and Amundson

(1975) found the drainage from wetlands in south-central Wisconsin

to have adverse effects on water quality in the receiving stream.

Frequently, this drainage contained low dissolved oxygen, high

nitrogen and phosphorus.

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Examination of the DO data for Station 8 shows that occasionally

DO levels of less than 4 mg/1 are encountered at this station. In

general, the BOD values found at Station 8 are equal to or greater

than those found at Station 4, thereby indicating that, since

appreciable BOD removal would be expected in the stream between

these two stations, significant BOD addition occurs in this stream,

due to several sources. First, because of the large amounts of plant

nutrients present in the stream, a prolific growth of aquatic plants

is found. These plants tend to contribute to the BOD of the stream;

however, examination of the winter data, when the growth of

aquatic plants would be minimal, does not show that this is a

significant source of BOD for the stream.

Another factor to consider is the possible effect of nitrification on

the BOD of the stream. It is conceivable that little or no nitrification

has occurred by Stations 1 and 4, while by Station 8, significant

nitrification is in progress. This nitrification would possibly show

up in the normal BOD5 test at Station 8 and not be present at

Stations 1 and 4. There is some support for this suggestion, based on

the changes in the ammonia and the nitrate concentrations from

Stations 4 and 8 for the Badfish Creek (see Table 3).

In general, there is an increase in suspended solids in the Badfish

Creek from Stations 1 to 4 and 4 to 8 (Table 3). This increase

indicates either the amounts of algae present in the creek or the

large amounts of materials contributed from rural runoff. Since the

organic nitrogen content of the stream remains essentially constant

throughout its length, it is possible to tentatively rule out increases

in algae as a cause of the increases of the solids. It is more likely,

based on the data available, that this is due to an increase in the

amounts of erosional material brought into the stream from the

farmlands.

An additional point that should be made with regard to the effects

of the MMSD-STP effluent on Badfish Creek is that this effluent

will likely increase the amounts of aquatic plants, particularly

attached filamentous algae, in the creek. These aquatics become

sufficiently thick at times that they have caused the MMSD to

purchase a weed cutter for harvesting weeds from the diversion

ditch. Probably the most significant problem caused by the

luxuriant growth of aquatic plants in Badfish Creek is the effect of

these plants on the DO in the stream. It is reasonable to expect that

the Badfish Creek would show a large diurnal DO fluctuation with a

maximum DO in late afternoon and a minimum in the morning just

before sunrise. This marked change in DO would be related to the

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Y ahara-Rock

173

photosynthesis and respiration of the aquatic plants and the

respiration of the bacteria in the stream utilizing the organic

matter in the water. Data showing the magnitude of the diurnal

fluctuations in DO were unavailable except for a limited study by

the graduate students in Sanitary Engineering at the University of

Wisconsin-Madison (Sanitary Engineering, 1969). Based on the fact

that the MMSD data were all collected during the day at a time

when DO would be expected to be higher than in the early morning,

it is reasonable to expect that the minimum DO values would likely

be lower due to this diurnal DO fluctuation. In some streams of this

type a several mg/1 diurnal DO fluctuation is encountered, so that

even a 5 mg/1 DO in midday might have a just-before-sunrise

minimum DO of 3 mg/1 or less. Additional study would be necessary

in order to ascertain the significance of the diurnal DO fluctuations

arising from the luxuriant aquatic plant growth on the DO

concentration of Badfish Creek.

Another problem which is caused by the discharge of the MMSD-

STP effluent to the Badfish Creek is the large amounts of ammonia

(NH3 +NH 4+) that are contributed. Ammonia has been shown to be

acutely toxic to fish at concentrations of a few mg/1 or less in 96

hours at the pH range in the Badfish Creek (USE PA, 197 6). The U S

EPA has established 0.2 mg/1 as unionized ammonia as a safe level

for chronic exposure of fish at pH 8 and 20 C. This concentration is

equivalent to a total ammonia (NH< + NH4+) of approximately 0.5

mg/1 as N. Measurements of pH by the MMSD showed the averages

ranged from approximately* 7.5 to 8.5 in the MMSD-STP effluent

and in waters of Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock Rivers. The STP

effluent has between 12 and 20 mg/1 of ammonia nitrogen (NH8 +

NH4+). At Station 1 the 12-year average, since diversion, is 10.6

mg/1 of ammonia nitrogen, while at Station 8 this average is 6.7

mg/1 N. There can be little doubt, based on the data available, that

the primary source of ammonia is the MMSD-STP and that this

ammonia would be expected to show toxicity to fish in the Badfish

Creek throughout its length. Further, as noted above, ammonia

concentrations of this level would exert a significant oxygen

demand on the Badfish Creek.

Effect of the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District

Effluent on the Yahara River

In order to examine the effects of the discharge of the MMSD

effluent on the Yahara River, Stations 8, 9 and 10 have been

174

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

sampled since 1956 on a weekly, and more recently on a bi-weekly

basis, with Stations 9 and 10 being sampled since 1953. Station 8 is

located on the Badfish Creek approximately 1.5 miles above the

point where this stream enters the Yahara River. Station 10 is

located on the Yahara at the Stebbinsville Dam above the point

where the Badfish enters the Yahara. Station 9 is located at the

State Highway 59 bridge where this highway crosses the Yahara

River below the confluence of the Yahara River and Badfish Creek.

Examination of the BOD5 data for Stations 8, 9 10 (Table 3)

shows that the annual mean concentrations at Station 8 are always

higher than that at Station 10. The resultant BOD5 at Station 9 is

between the two values reported at Stations 8 and 10. In general the

minimum DO at Station 9 is in the order of 5 mg/1; however, since

this is a daytime value, it is possible that it could drop to what would

be considered critical levels for some aquatic organisms, including

fish, in the vicinity of aquatic plants in the river. There is some

indication from the data available that some of the low values in DO

that are found at Station 9 on the Yahara River are due in part to the

BOD contributed from the Badfish Creek. However, as pointed out

above, there appear to be other sources of BOD in Badfish Creek

besides the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District. With the data

available at this time it is impossible to determine whether the

MMSD-STP discharge is contributing significant amounts of BOD

which causes the near-critical measured values for DO in the

Yahara River.

Examination of suspended solids data for Stations 8, 9 and 10

shows that, in general, Station 8 on the Badfish has higher

suspended solids values than Stations 9 or 10. Therefore, the

Badfish is contributing suspended solids to the Yahara River.

However, since Station 9 shows considerably higher suspended

solids normally than Stations 1 and 4 on the Badfish, it must be

concluded that the suspended solids present in the MMSD-STP

effluent are not contributing significantly to the suspended solids

present in the Yahara River.

The ammonia data for Stations 8, 9 and 10 shows that the Badfish

Creek is contributing to excessive concentrations of ammonia in the

Yahara River. These concentrations are sufficiently great to cause

fish toxicity problems in this river near the confluence of the

Badfish and the Yahara. It appears that the excessive concen¬

trations of ammonia in the Yahara River at Station 9 are due to a

major extent to the discharge of large amounts of ammonia from the

MMSD-STP.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

175

Examination of the nitrogen and phosphorus data for the Yahara

River, Radfish Creek and the confluence of the two at Station 9

shows that the MMSD-STP effluent is contributing to the large

amounts of nitrogen and phosphorus present in the Y ahara River at

Station 9. Excessive concentrations of nitrogen and phosphorus in

the Yahara River would be considerably less than that for the

Badfish Creek, since the Badfish Creek is a rapidly moving stream

with essentially no impoundments or standing water. However, the

Yahara River has numerous impoundments, many of which are

constructed for power production. These impoundments create

relatively low velocity water and lake-like conditions. Typically it

has been found that inorganic nitrogen in excess of about 0.3 mg/1

N,and soluble orthophosphate in excess of 0.01 mg/1 P (0.03 mg/1

P04=) (Sawyer, (1947) can cause excessive growths of algae and

other aquatic plants in lakes. The Yahara River, before the Badfish

enters it, has concentrations of nitrogen and phosphorus in excess of

these values. The addition of the waters from the Badfish greatly

increases the amount of nitrogen and phosphorus in the Yahara and

will likely increase the problems of excessive growths of algae in

various impoundments of the Yahara River.

Examination of the data for the two stations on the Yahara River

below the point where the Badfish enters, shows that there is a

slight reduction in BOD, soluble phosphate and ammonia as the

water flows from Station 9 to 14A. Station 14A is located at Fulton,

Wisconsin, on the Yahara River. There is an increase in nitrate

which is probably attributable to nitrification of the ammonia and

inflow of groundwater. Suspended solids data appears to be highly

variable with no discernible pattern evident from the data

available.

From an overall point of view there is an improvement in water

quality in the Yahara River from Station 9 to 14 A. In general, the

DO values for Station 14A are above the critical value. It is possible

that they might drop below critical values of 3 to 4 mg/1 during early

morning.

Effect of the Madison Effluent on the Rock River

Four sampling stations were established in order to ascertain the

effect of the MMSD-STP effluent on the Rock River. Station 14A is

located on the Yahara River at Fulton, above where the Yahara

enters the Rock; Station 15 is at Indianford Dam on the Rock River,

and Station 16 is at State Highway 14 bridge just north of

176

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Janesville. The MMSD also sampled Station 17, located in the

center of Janesville, but these data are not included because

influenced by inputs from the city of Janesville. Examination of the

DO data for these three stations shows that adequate DO is present

at all stations throughout the year to maintain desirable aquatic life

in the stream.

From examination of the 5-day BOD data, it is doubtful that the

MMSD-STP effluent has any effect on the BOD levels found in the

Rock River. The ammonia data show that the Yahara River is

contributing increased concentrations of ammonia to the Rock

River, as evidenced by an increase in the concentrations of this

compound at Station 16 compared to 15; however, in general, the

concentrations of ammonia at Station 16 are less than the critical

concentrations for excessive growths of algae and for toxicity to

aquatic organisms. On the other hand, comparison of the nitrate

values for Stations 14A, 15 and 16 shows that the Yahara generally

has higher levels of nitrate nitrogen than does the Rock River.

Mixing the two increases the nitrate to levels that would produce

excessive growths of algae. If the nitrate and ammonia are added

together in order to calculate the inorganic nitrogen, it is found that

in excess of a mg/1 of inorganic nitrogen is present in the Rock River

below the confluence of the Y ahara and the Rock, and that this value

is derived to some extent from the discharge of MMSD-STP effluent

into the Badfish Creek. It will be necessary to do additional study in

order to ascertain the amount of the inorganic nitrogen present in

the Rock River at Janesville that can be attributed to the discharge

from MMSD-STP.

The same type of pattern obtains for soluble phosphorus, where

MMSD-STP effluent is contributing to excessive concentrations of

soluble orthophosphate in the Rock River above Janesville. The

inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate would be expected

to contribute to the excessive growths of algae in the Rock River.

The suspended solids data do not show any discernible trends

attributable to the discharge of MMSD-STP effluent to the Badfish

Creek. It is doubtful that the discharge has any effect on the

suspended solids which are found in the Rock River.

From an overall point of view; the only readily discernible effects

of Madison discharge of wastewater effluents to the Badfish Creek

on water quality in the Rock River above Janesville is an increase in

the inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate above the levels

that are said to cause excessive growth of algae in lakes and

impoundments. Schraufnagel (1971) has estimated that ap-

1977]

Lee — Water Quality, Badfish-Yahara-Rock

177

proximate ly 90 percent of the phosphorus present in the Yahara

River just before it enters the Rock River is derived from sewage

plant discharges from DeForest, Windsor, Arlington, Waunakee,

Cottage Grove, Oregon and Madison. Because of the relative size of

these communities, by far the major part of the phosphorus is

derived from Madison. He also estimates that approximately 60

percent of the phosphorus present in the Rock River immediately

below confluence with the Yahara, is derived from municipal

wastewater sources. Based on these estimates the MMSD-STP

effluent contributes between 30 to 40 percent of the phosphorus

present in the Rock River just above Janesville.

DISCUSSION

The purpose of the December, 1959 diversion of the Madison

wastewater effluent from the Y ahara River above Lake Waubesa to

the Badfish Creek, which enters the Yahara River below Lake

Kegonsa, was to reduce the amounts of aquatic plant nutrients,

nitrogen and phosphorus compounds, that enter these small lakes.

Generally, lakes do not have significant water quality problems in

the surface waters due to low DO; however, lakes frequently tend to

grow excessive amounts of algae more readily than do streams.

There is little doubt that the diversion of the MMSD-STP effluent

did result in improved water quality in Lakes Waubesa and

Kegonsa, as evidenced by less excessive growth of obnoxious algae.

There has, at the same time, been a deterioration in water quality in

the upper parts of the Badfish Creek, which can be directly

attributed to the discharge of effluent to this creek. The diversion of

the nitrogen and phosphorus from Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa to

the Badfish has most probably created serious water quality

problems in the Badfish and Yahara River at the point where the

Badfish enters the Yahara, due to the high concentrations of

ammonia which could lead to toxicity to fish and to excessive

growths of algae in the Badfish Creek.

A comparison of the data (Table 3) available on the concentrations

of nitrogen and phosphorus present at Station 9 on the Y ahara River

below the point where the Badfish empties into it prior to the

diversion and after the diversion, shows that the amounts of

inorganic nitrogen and soluble orthophosphate found in the river at

this point have increased. As would be expected, Lakes Waubesa

and Kegonsa would tend to act as nutrient traps by accumulating in

the lake sediments some of the nitrogen and phosphorus that used to

178

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

be discharged to these lakes. After diversion, there is an ap¬

proximate doubling in the amount of phosphorus present in the

Yahara River below the Badfish. There is essentially little

opportunity on an annual basis for this phosphorus to be removed in

the Badfish Creek.

The same pattern is found for the Rock River in that the diversion

of the effluent around Lakes Waubesa and Kegonsa increased the

concentrations of inorganic nitrogen and phosphorus present in the

Rock River below the point where the Yahara River enters. It

should be mentioned, though, that some of the increase in

phosphorus found today in the Rock River just above Janesville

would be attributable to the overall increase of phosphorus in the

MMSD-STP effluent since 1959, i.e. almost a doubling in the

amounts of soluble orthophosphate from 1959 to 1968. In the same

period the total phosphorus present has remained essentially the

same. It is interesting to note that this increase in soluble

orthophosphate has occurred even though the 1962-63 expansion of

the plant eliminated the return of digester supernatant to the

primary sedimentation tanks. It was likely that even if the effluent

had continued to be discharged through Lakes Waubesa and

Kegonsa, the overall concentrations of soluble orthphosphate in the

Rock River above Janesville would have increased somewhat due to

the increases in concentrations in the MMSD-STP effluent during

this same period of time.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

This report was supported by the Madison Metropolitan

Sewerage District, the University of Wisconsin-Madison Depart¬

ment of Civil and Enviromental Engineering and EnviroQual

Consultants & Laboratories, Plano, Texas. Data reduction was

accomplished by Jeffrey Young. This report also received

assistance from S. Dodson of the Laboratory of Limnology and G. D.

Veith.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Lawton, G. W. 1961. “Limitation of Nutrients as a Step in Ecological

Control.” In: Algae and Metropolitan Wastes U. S. Dept. Health,

Educ. and Welfare. Robt. A. Taft Sanitary Engineering Center,

Cincinnati, Ohio. pp. 108-117.

1977]

Lee — Water Quality , Badfish-Yahara-Rock

179

Lee, G. F.,andG. D. Veith. 1971. Report on the Effect of the Discharge of

the Madison Metropolitan Sewerage District Wastewater Effluent on

Water Quality on the Badfish Creek, Yahara and Rock Rivers.

University of Wisconsin-Madison, Water Chemistry Program.

Lee, G. F., E. Bentley, and R. Amundson. 1975. “Effect of Marshes on

Water Quality.” In: Ecological Studies 10, Coupling of Land and Water

Systems. Springer-Verlag, New York, pp. 105-127.

Mackenthun, K. M., L. A. Lueschow, andC. D. McNabb. 1960. A study of

the effects of diverting the effluent from sewage treatment upon the

receiving stream. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 49: 51-72.

Sanitary Engineering Students. 1969. Badfish Creek Stream Survey.

University of Wisconsin-Madison.

Sawyer, C. N. 1947. Fertilization of lakes by agricultural and urban

drainage. J. New Engl. Water Works Assoc. 61: 109-127.

Schraufnagel, F. H. February 22, 1971. Memorandum to Thomas G.

Frangos. Phosphorus Contribution to the Rock River.

Sonzogni, W. C., and G. F. Lee. 1974. Diversion of waste waters from

Madison Lakes. Jour. Environ. Eng. Div. ASCE 100: 153-170.

Sonzogni, W. C., and G. F. Lee. 1975. Phosphorus sources for the Lower

Madison Lakes. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci., Arts, Lett. 63: 162-175.

Teletzke, G. H. 1953. A Sanitary Survey of the Yahara River and the

Badfish Creek. M. S. Thesis, Civil Engineering, University of

Wisconsin-Madison.

U. S. Enviromental Protection Agency. 1976. Quality Criteria for Water.

E PA-440/ 9-76-023. Washington, D. C. 501 pp.

Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. 1971. Lower Rock River

Pollution Investigation Survey, February 1971. DNR, Div. Environ.

Protection, Madison.

Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. Undated. A Review of

Chemical Monitoring on Badfish Creek and Lower Receiving Rivers,

1960-1965.

Wisniewski, T. W. 1961. The Badfish River before and after diversion of

sewage plant effluent, algae and metropolitan wastes. Public Health

Service publ. SEC TR W61-3, Cincinnati, Ohio.

BACK TO THE LAND!

RURAL FINNISH SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN

Arnold R. Alanen

University Wisconsin

— Madison

The only language the stumps understand . . .

is. . . Finnish.1

Although the Finns left an indelible imprint upon certain areas of

Wisconsin, they never numbered among the state’s largest foreign-

born groups. Between 1900 and 1920, for example, Wisconsin’s

Finnish-born population grew from some 2,000 to 6,750 in¬

habitants, but more than fifteen other non-native contingents had

larger representations during both census years.2 The relatively

small number of Finns in Wisconsin is even more evident when the

figures are compared to those for Michigan and Minnesota, the two

states which provided a bifurcated focus for the largest number of

Finnish immigrants to this country. During 1920, Michigan and

Minnesota each had a population of about 30,000 Finnish-born

persons; and together the two states accounted for approximately

forty percent of the United States’ total Finnish community.

How, then, did the Finns develop and nurture a distinctive

identity within Wisconsin? There were undoubtedly several reasons

but a few factors were of paramount importance. One was that the

majority of these Finns settled in relatively few areas of the state

and thereby maintained a tightly-contained geographic identity

and cohesiveness. Secondly, unlike most participants in the major

migration waves between 1880 and World War I (the so-called “new

immigration”), the Wisconsin Finns settled predominantly in rural

rather than urban centers. Hence, it was somewhat easier for them

to maintain a distinctive identity and culture. Thirdly, certain

Finnish institutions, serving a regional or national audience, have

been headquartered in Superior, Wisconsin. Of particular note is

the Central Cooperative Exchange,3 a Finnish-sponsored economic

venture which was initiated during 1917. Before it merged with

Midland Cooperatives, Inc., of Minneapolis in 1963, the wholesaling

facility had an affiliated network of 244 local outlets spread

throughout the Upper Midwest and did some $21 million worth of

business during its peak year of operation.4 Another important

institution in Superior has been the Finnish language press. Its best

known journalistic efforts have been the Tyovaen Osuustoimin-

180

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

181

talehti (Workers' Cooperative Journal ), which is the primary news

organ of the Finnish-American cooperative movement, published

between 1930 and 1965; and the Tyomies (Workingman), which

moved from Hancock, Michigan to Superior during 1914. Even

today, the latter newspaper and its associated activities continue to

provide a portion of North America’s Finnish-readers with a

politically left-of-center news outlet.

To many observers of the Wisconsin landscape, the most evident

and interesting Finnish imprint lies in the various vernacular

architectural elements built by this immigrant group. Ranging

from the sauna and riihib to log houses and barns, the

craftsmanship and functional integrity of these structures have

found an appreciative audience among folk architecture

aficionados. The Finnish farm complex at Old World Wisconsin,

located at Eagle, is an effort to display and preserve a major portion

of this ethnic and cultural legacy. In addition, an 1898 Finnish log

structure in the Brantwood area (the Matt Johnson or Knox house)

recently was nominated for inclusion on the National Register of

Historic Places.

Although Wisconsin’s Finnish communities were relatively

small, their activities reflect those of the overall Finnish population

in America. The Wisconsin Finns helped to load Great Lakes ore

carriers on the docks of Ashland and Superior; entered the

treacherous waters of Lake Superior at Herbster and Bark Point to

search for lake trout; ventured into deep underground mines at

Hurley, Iron Belt and Montreal; felled trees and skidded logs in the

forest surrounding Brule and Brantwood; tended assembly lines in

factories at Milwaukee, Kenosha and Racine; and most importantly,

cleared and farmed the land in various areas of Wisconsin’s cutover

region.

Since the basic story of Finnish settlement and institutional

development in Wisconsin has been related by Kolehmainen (1944)

and Kolehmainen and Hill (1951), this article will look more

explicitly at the migration of Finns to the state and the agricultural

enclaves they formed. A brief overall sketch of Finnish settlement

activities will be given, but the major portion of the discussion will

focus upon two rural communities in Wisconsin: Oulu (pronounced

Oh-loo) and Owen-Withee. Separated by about 175 miles and settled

during different periods, the two enclaves illustrate some of the

geographic and temporal differences which characterized Wiscon¬

sin’s Finnish settlement picture. The primary sources for this

analysis include church records; the original manuscripts from the

182

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Federal and Wisconsin State Censuses; U.S. Federal Land Office

records; Finnish-American newspapers; and personal interviews

conducted by the author.

FINNISH-AMERICANS AND RURAL SETTLEMENT

With the exception of a small number of Swedish-speaking Finns,

primary Finnish settlement did not commence until the mid-1880s.

As such, the major movement of Finns into the state occurred some

twenty years after the initial bridgehead in America had been

established in the Copper Country of Northern Michigan during

1864 (Holmio, 1967). These first Finns, recruited to work as miners

in Michigan, eventually were followed by thousands of others. For

many Finns, Michigan’s mining communities served only as

temporary way stations in their search for an always elusive

American El Dorado. Many migrated to the rich iron ore fields of

northeastern Minnesota; some sought work in the copper, coal and

gold mines of the western United States; and others pursued a

variety of activities which ranged from logging and railroad

construction to the establishment of private businesses. Some

emigres returned to Finland, or made the trans-Atlantic crossing

several times. Of greatest significance, however, were the

agricultural activities initiated by Finns in several areas of the

Upper Midwest. During the latter half of the 1860s, a few small

Finnish agricultural enclaves were established on the prairies of

Minnesota (Kaups, 1966); but by the 1880s little prime agricultural

land remained for the vast majority of later Finnish immigrants.

Because of this, thousands of Finns acquired small acreages in the

Lake Superior cutover region6 and began the massive task of

clearing the land of stumps and boulders, draining and planting

fields, constructing farmsteads and developing a network of

Finnish oriented communities and cultural, social and economic

institutions.

Possessing an undeniable land hunger, many Finns who

retreated to the land during the nineteenth century were inspired

by the teaching of Lars Laestadius, a Swedish religious revivalist

who found many adherents in rural areas of western and northern

Finland— the primary area for early emigrants to America.

Espousing a life of piety and simplicity, the Laestadians (Apostolic

Lutherans) believed that the maintenance of traditional ethnic

values in a new country could be best accomplished by developing

rural communitarian enclaves (Kaups, 1975). By the turn of the

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns, Wisconsin

183

century, however, larger numbers of Finns began to emigrate from

less conservative areas of their homeland (Kero, 1973, 1974); an

appreciable number of these Finns had been politicized by an

oppressive Russian czarist government in Finland.7 Imbued with a

strong belief in socialism, many quickly formed political and social

organizations in America and began to call for higher wages and

better working conditions, most notably in the mining areas of

Michigan and Minnesota. By serving as leaders and participants in

several strikes, but especially the infamous conflicts on Minnesota’s

Mesabi Range in 1906 and 1916 and Michigan’s Copper Country

during 1913, a number of Finns were blacklisted by the mining and

steel corporations. Unable to secure work, many of them, as well as

other Finns who were affected by the strikes, lockouts and

shutdowns, moved to the woods and began to carve out a precarious

existence on forty to eighty acre parcels of land (Ollila, 1975).

Whether conservative or radical, none of the Finns could escape

the dangerous and often oppressive conditions they faced in the

mines and several other employment pursuits. Finnish language

newspapers solemnly announced the figures: a total of 63 Finns

dead in a mine disaster at Scofield, Utah during 1900; almost 100

killed while mining coal at Hannah, Wyoming in 1903; 146 deaths in

the mines of Houghton County, Michigan between 1900 and 1903;

ad infinitum (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951; Yli-Jokipii, 1971).

Although not quite as dangerous, conditions in logging camps were

far from idyllic. One woodsman working in northern Wisconsin

reported that at his place of employment the food was poor, the land

wet and the camp accessible only after a long trek through the

woods (Kolehmainen, 1946). Other lumberjacks died from

pneumonia or injuries when they did not receive adequate medical

attention in the camps. In a rather widely reported story of 1907,

four Finnish lumberjacks were jailed for fifteen days in

northeastern Minnesota when a camp operator claimed they had

left his place of employment before discharging a debt. The Finns

stated that their departure had been hastened because they were

given dull and rusty tools (an insult to a Finn!), had not been able to

secure adequate food and had been forced to sleep three to a bed.

They were jailed when the camp operator claimed they still owed

him 77 cents apiece for transportation to the camp.8 Small wonder

then, that thousands of Finns in America heeded the call: “Back to

the land!— ‘mother Earth will provide for all of us’ ” (Kolehmainen,

1946).

184

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FINNISH SETTLEMENT IN WISCONSIN

Although major Finnish settlement activities in Wisconsin did

not commence until the mid-1880s, some Finnish-born persons

entered the state at a considerably earlier date. Most of these

earliest pioneers, though born in Finland, either were of direct

Swedish stock or spoke Swedish as their mother tongue (i.e., Swede-

Finns). Undoubtedly the most important individual in this group

was Gustaf Unonius, a minister and author who was born in

Helsinki, Finland during 1810. Unonius later emigrated to

America and in 1841 founded Wisconsin’s first Swedish settlement

at Pine Lake (Nya Upsala). Located in Waukesha County, the

colony never prospered and by 1850 only a few settlers remained of

the dozen or so families who had heeded Unonius’ original call in

1841 (Nelson, 1943). During the 1870s and 1880s a small group of

Swede-Finns settled in the vicinity of Bailey’s Harbor; however,

this contingent, whose numbers never exceeded fifteen to seventeen

members, quickly intermingled and intermarried with Door

County’s Irish, German and Scandinavian population. Somewhat

later in the nineteenth century, a larger group of Swede-Finns

established farms in Wood County’s Sigel Township; and the

nucleus for a fairly large urban settlement was established in

Ashland during the same period. Although the Swede-Finns in

America identified more closely with Swedes than with Finns,

Silfversten (1931; cited by Nelson, 1943) aptly noted the dilemma

they faced; “They have their native country in common with the

Finns, their language in common with the Swedes and their

national history in common with both.”

When considering Wisconsin’s Finnish-speaking population,

Aine (1938) and Kolehmainen and Hill (1951) have noted that the

first permanent settlement was established in Douglas County

during 1885. According to U.S. Federal Land Office records, a few

Finns acquired homesteads during the summer of that year in what

are now Amnicon and Lakeside Townships (the Wentworth-Poplar

area). Since there were no roads into the area, provisions and

livestock were brought from Duluth and Superior in small boats;

after landing along the Lake Superior shoreline, the cattle, goods

and personal belongings were transported inland by the settlers.9

Once this initial node had been established, more extensive

settlement took place as the land seekers moved steadily eastward

through Douglas County and into Bayfield County (Fig. 1). By 1886

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

185

FIGURE 1. Distribution of Foreign-Born Finns during 1905, and Major

Finnish Settlements in Wisconsin. With the exception of

Saxon and Owen-Withee, the basis for all major Finnish

settlements in Wisconsin had been established by 1905.

Source: Wisconsin State Census, 1905

Finns had settled in the Maple area, and during the following year

another group began to establish farms in the vicinity of Brule-

Waino. The settlement wave reached Bayfield County in 1888, with

the major Finnish concentrations emerging in what eventually

would become Oulu Township. During the late 1880s Finns also

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

established themselves in the City of Superior and in various

communities along Iron County’s Gogebic Range (Hurley, Montreal

and Iron Belt). While a large number of the Iron County Finns

worked as miners, they often acquired small acreages of land

proximate to the mines and engaged in part-time farming.

Eventually, larger farms were established just south of Hurley in a

relatively extensive area centering upon Van Buskirk and Oma

Township.

In the 1890’s, other Finns began to purchase land in some Ashland

County townships which had been forfeited by the Wisconsin

Central Railroad.10 Situated between Marengo and High Bridge, a

large number of the Finns who moved to this area in subsequent

years were attracted from both the Michigan and Wisconsin

sections of the Gogebic Range. The latter years of the nineteenth

century saw another important Finnish colony established at

Brantwood and Clifford-Tripoli. With new settlers and land agents

touting the virtues of the area, the settlement quickly became one of

the fastest growing communities in Finnish-America

(Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951).

With the exception of Saxon and Owen-Withee, by 1905 a nucleus

had been established for all major Finnish settlements in Wiscon¬

sin. In addition to the communities mentioned above, Finns were

situated in rural areas around Turtle Lake (Barron County);

Florence and Commonwealth (Florence County); Washburn

Township, Herbster and Bark Point (Bayfield County); Phelps-

Eagle River (Vilas County); and Amberg (Marinette County).

During 1902 some Finns began to work in the granite quarries of

Red Granite, and in the 1890s and early 1900s a limited migration

was underway to the cities of Ashland, Kenosha, Marinette, Merrill,

Milwaukee, Racine and Rhinelander.

Once permanent settlements had been established, various

institutions were developed by the Finns. Among the first to emerge

were the churches, with three Lutheran variants (Suomi Synod,

National Lutheran and Apostolic Lutheran) represented in many

communities. A rather unique organization which soon developed

in several of the older Finnish communities was the temperance

society. Often, though not always aligned with church interests,

most societies built halls where members could engage in social

activities as well as pledge their opposition to demon rum.

When a greater number of politically active Finns moved to the

state during the early twentieth century, socialist halls and locals

were established in most of Wisconsin’s Finnish-American com-

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

187

munities. Many of these locals were rather short-lived, but at least

twenty-three were initiated between 1905 and 1914 (Kolehmainen

and Hill, 1951). A Finnish-sponsored institution with greater

longevity, however, has been the consumers’ cooperative. In

addition to the cooperative wholesale facility located in Superior,

some eighteen local cooperative stores and retail outlets were

developed by the Finns in Wisconsin prior to World War II. Two

stores organized in the Brantwood-Clifford area at the turn of the

century even were among the very first consumers’ cooperatives

developed by Finns in the United States (Alanen, 1975). Although

their numbers have dwindled and the original concepts and ideals

have changed, the most evident legacy of Finnish institutional

activity is provided by the churches and cooperative stores which

still can be found in northern Wisconsin.

OULU AND OWEN-WITHEE: A COMPARISON OF TWO

FINNISH COMMUNITIES

Oulu Background

As mentioned previously, Finnish settlement in the immediate

Oulu area commenced during 1888. Some thirty settlers had

claimed homesteads by the turn of the century, but the majority had

to purchase their small acreages from private agencies or

individuals (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951). By 1915 the rapid

development of Oulu Township11 had been noted by outside, non-

Finnish speaking observers; a highly laudatory article published in

the Wisconson Agriculturist , for example, observed that Finnish

immigrants had cleared the land in a few short years and that Oulu

Township already could boast of nine schools, three churches, a

socialist hall and a cooperative creamery and store. Stating that the

Finnish farmer had a sickening fear of debt and a passion for

cleanliness, dairy cows and dynamite (to blast stumps), the writer

went on to exclaim:

We must admit their adaptability to pioneer conditions. They are

superior in intelligence, physical strength, patience and per¬

sistence. They are self contained and somewhat apart from the

rest, but they are the makers of history as it will be written of this

new empire.12

While the Oulu Township portion of the “new empire” supported

close to 1,100 residents by 1920, a steady population decline

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

occurred thereafter (by 1940 there were 910 residents, and by 1970

only 505 persons.) Oulu Township, as such, reflects the agricultural

evolution of the entire cutover region. Envisioned as a new frontier

for rural settlement at the turn of the century, the cutover was the

target for recruitment by private companies and public agencies;

special efforts were made to attract European immigrants who,

unlike native Americans, “. . . would devote all their time to

farming” (Helgeson,1962). Although the Finns persisted in their

efforts to a greater extent than other groups, and indeed were still

seeking land in the 1920s, many of the newly established farms were

abandoned during agricultural recessions; other settlers ceased

their efforts once it was recognized that at least twelve to thirteen

years of steady effort were required to develop anything even

approaching a productive farm (Hartman and Black, 1931).13

Differences between the bounteous potential of the region as

envisioned by the promoter, and reality as encountered by the

settler often were quite striking. One account written during 1893,

for example, claimed that farm life in the north woods of Wisconsin

might not be entirely pleasurable, but neither was it all drudgery.

The observer went on to state that by cutting down a few trees,

dynamiting the stumps and dropping some seed potatoes into the

pits, an “enormous return” would be assured.14 By way of contrast,

the actual back-breaking and slow task of carving out an existence

in the cutover region was tellingly stated by an early Finnish settler

in the vicinity of Oulu:

With the snow still in the ground, in the spring, the whole family

worked to clear the brush. We cleared out stones and blasted

stumps. With the stones and stumps, we built the fence. The

second year, we had three acres of potatoes to show the world.

Everyone worked as hard as anyone can work (Doby, 1960).

Owen- W i th ee Background

The movement of Finns into the Owen-Withee area began around

1910, or more than twenty years after the Oulu Township

development. Because of this rather late date, these Finns were not

able to secure homesteads; however, the sale of land to immigrants

in this section of northern Clark County comprises one of the more

interesting segments of Wisconsin’s Finnish-American settlement

history.

After the John S. Owen Lumber Company had harvested most of

the marketable timber in the Owen-Withee area, the company’s

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

189

holdings were put up for sale. National advertising campaigns were

initiated, and the Owens sought to promote agricultural endeavors

on their cutover land by . . selling on easy terms to those who gave

promise of permanence.”15 One person, however, was responsible

for bringing the largest number of Finns to Owen-Withee: land

agent John A. Pelto. Bilingual agents such as Pelto often were hired

by land holding companies, be they railroads, timber operations or

speculators, to assist in the disposal of property. Undoubtedly

finding it easier and more profitable to sell land to their foreign-

born counterparts than to clear and farm the soil themselves, the

agents used their powers of persuasion and hyperbole to entice

settlers. Pelto, acting as an agent for the Owen Company, placed

large advertisements in Finnish-American newspapers and

journals which exclaimed: “Become a farmer in a place where there

are possibilities — Owen, Wisconsin. . .” (Fig. 2). The ads praised the

HHX

Tulkaa Farmareiksi

sinne missa siihen on

j MAHDOLLISUUKSIA

Owen, Wisconsin issa, on yksi parhainipia farmiseutuja, jossa maanviljelyksella on jo kavtan-

| niissa kyetty nayttaniiiiin, etta se siclla menestyy. Paitsi suurempaa vieras/kielistii asutusta, on jo

\ noin 500 suonialaista ostaneet maita, joista useita satoja jo asunkin, osa liyvirikin parjiiavinii.

| Oweniin paaaee viitta eri rautatieta, joten se ei ole sydanmaawa.

\\ Owenissa on kaikkiaan 1 8 juustotehdastakin 12 :sta mailin alalia ; on pickelsien valmistuslaitos,

’neijereita, karjan ja lihan valityslaitoksia y. m., farmarien kontrollin alia olevia jalostuslaitoksia.

A Hyvat tiet ja koulut. — Tasaiaet maat ja helpot puhdistaa ja viljella.

m Hinnat vaihtelevat viidestatoiata dollarista ylospain, ollen ne verrattain halvat maan laatuun

A, ja aseman edullisuuteen nahden.

Q Maksuehdot kohtuulliaet.

r| Lahempia tietoja varten kirjoittakaa osoitteella:

I John E. Pelto,

FIGURE 2. Tulkaa Farmareiksi— “Become a Farmer” Ads such as this,

praising the attributes and agricultural potential 9f the

Owen-Withee area in Wisconsin, appeared in many Finnish

language newspapers during the second decade of the

twentieth century. Source: Pelto ja Koti (Superior, Wis.),

March 1, 1917

190

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

area’s level terrain and the ease with which land could be cleared

and planted; the five railroad connections which made the

community something more than just a “backwoods” location; the

eighteen cheese factories located within a distance of twelve miles;

the pickle factory, creameries, good roads and schools; and the

expanding Finnish community itself. All of this, Pelto pointed out,

was available for prices which began at fifteen dollars an acre.

Many Finns could not resist such mellifluous phrases and by 1920

Clark County contained a Finnish-born population of about 280

residents. Situated along the southern rim of the cutover area, the

agricultural attributes of the “Clover Belt” did indeed prove to be

significantly better than in Finnish settlement areas farther to the

north. Despite such agricultural advantages, the arduous task of

removing stumps and clearing fields still awaited the first settlers.

One articulate second generation Finnish-American, for example,

recalled that when her father was clearing land, he sometimes

would stop work, wipe his brow, shake his fist in the air and shout;

Tdmdkd on Pellon Jussin Amerika! (“So this is John Pelto’s

America!”). Nevertheless, once land clearing had been ac¬

complished and full-scale farming established, the Owen-Withee

settlement emerged as the most prosperous of Wisconsin’s larger

Finnish communities. Although curses and vitriolic comments

often were directed at land agents, in the Owen-Withee area John

Pelto apparently had . . endeared himself in the hearts of his

countrymen” (Kolehmainen and Hill, 1951).

Finnish Backgrounds of Oulu and Owen-Withee Residents

Recent studies by other investigators have sought to determine

whether certain foreign-born groups (primarily Swedes) that

settled in the Midwest formed culturally homogeneous enclaves

(Ostegren, 1973; Rice, 1973). The studies have shown that at least in

some cases, immigrants from relatively contained areas of Sweden

did develop identifiable settlements in America; this, in turn,

indicates that such immigrants undoubtedly shared a particular

cultural uniqueness and heritage. Large-scale Swedish emigration

to America, of course, began at an earlier date than did major

Finnish migration; hence, many Swedes (and other early im¬

migrant groups) were able to settle directly in America on

inexpensive and often fertile land. Very few Finns could partake of

these opportunities. Not only did the later arrival date mean that

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

191

Finnish agricultural endeavors were limited primarily to the

nation’s cutover region, but a large number of Finns from all areas

of their homeland first intermixed in mining and other areas of the

United States. Thus, the direct transfer of people from individual

Finnish communes to specific American areas was very uncommon.

In spite of these conditions, it still was possible that some Finns

formed relatively homogeneous enclaves in America— even after

they had lived in this country for some time. Such occurrences

would have been more likely during the nineteenth century when

some homesteads still were available and when a number of

immigrants from specific Finnish areas could have selected

contiguous or proximate areas of land. Since few homesteads with

any agricultural potential were available after 1900, it could be

hypothesized that Finnish-American settlements formed after this

date would represent a much broader geographic cross-section of

the Finnish population spectrum.16

To explore these hypotheses in a preliminary manner, the Finnish

birthfields for a sample of Oulu and Owen-Withee residents were

investigated. Samples from both communities have been used, since

there is no complete record of all Finns who moved to or resided in

the two communities. Most information was derived from church

records, especially those of the Suomi Synod, the American

transplant of the Finnish State Church. Although the quantity and

accuracy of information varied from congregation to congregation,

the records of American Suomi Synod churches were relatively

analogous to the meticulous church files maintained in Finland.

The records used in this study generally included the date and place

of birth, baptism, confirmation and marriage; date of arrival in

America and the local community; and former place of residence in

America. However, rather few of the professionally trained

National Lutheran’s clergy and certainly very few of the Apostolic

Lutheran’s lay ministry were thoroughly acquainted with the

record keeping systems; hence, much less information could be

derived for members of these two church bodies. In addition, it must

be pointed out that many Finnish immigrants, especially during the

post-1900 era when there was an array of political and other groups

from which to choose, did not join any church (Kero, 1975).

Given these limitations, it was necessary to seek information

other than ecclesiastical. Some secondary documents (e.g., Ilmonen,

1926) did provide data, but the most useful additional information

was supplied by second generation Finnish-Americans living in

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Oulu and Owen-Withee. By combining; the information from these

various sources, it was possible to develop complete or partial

background data on 106 adult Finns in Oulu and 113 in Owen-

Withee. The years covered by the samples were between 1889-1929

for Oulu and from 1911-1928 for Owen-Withee.

A large proportion of Oulu Township’s population left their

homeland during relatively early stages of Finnish emigration;

hence, the greatest number of the township’s Finnish-born

residents came from the two provinces which sent the largest

number of emigrants to America: Vaasa and Oulu.17 Two

birthfields are indicated: one, a rather widely dispersed area

(radius=62 km), centering on Lapua, Kauhava and several adjacent

communes in the Province of Vaasa, and the other, a much more

concentrated pattern (radius=35 km), focusing on the communes of

Lohtaja, Kalajoki and Alavieska in the Province of Oulu (Fig. 3).

Thirty-four percent of the immigrants considered in the Oulu

Township sample came from the former birthfield, and twenty-

eight percent from the latter. It must be noted, however, that the

birthfield in Vaasa Province served as the point of departure for

twelve percent of all Finnish emigres to America; whereas that in

Oulu Province was under one percent.18 Although the largest

number of residents in the Oulu Township sample came from these

two general areas of Finland, undoubtedly those born in the three

communes of Oulu Province formed the township’s most

homogeneous group.

For the place of birth for Finns in the Owen-Withee sample, the

geographic dispersion is much greater (Fig. 4). The majority were

born in the western area of the country, but this pattern also reflects

the overall Finnish emigration picture. Some Owen-Withee

residents, however, hailed from other areas of Finland, indicating,

of course, that some emigrated at a later date than did their Oulu

Township counterparts. As hypothesized before, it seems unlikely

that Finnish- American enclaves formed after 1900 had any major

linkages with specific communal areas in Finland.

Migration within America to Oulu and Owen-Withee

Regardless of the rural area they eventually selected in the

United States, virtually all Finns had to work at other occupations

in the New World before they could secure the means to purchase

land.19 As stated previously, factors such as dangerous employment

and labor unrest and conflict in the mining areas contributed to this

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

193

190

KILOMETERS

Oulu Township,

Wisconsin

Number of Persons

FIGURE 3. Place of Birth in Finland for Oulu Township Immigrants. The

largest number of immigrants came from a grouping of

communes in the two adjacent Finnish provinces of Oulu and

Vaasa. Sources: Church Records, Ilmonen (1926), Historical

Sketches of the Town of Oulu, and Personal Interviews

194

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

FIGURE 4. Place of Birth in Finland for Owen-Withee Immigrants.

Settled at a later date than Oulu Township, the immigrants

who established themselves in the Owen-Withee area came

from a relatively wide area of Finland. Sources: Church

Records, Ilmonen (1926), and Personal Interviews

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

195

back-to-the-land phenomenon. Although the movements considered

in this study are based upon population samples only, the migration

of Finns to Oulu and Owen-Withee does depict two representative

threads in a much larger Finnish-American settlement fabric

(Figs. 5, 6, 7).

FIGURE 5. Prior American Residence of Finnish-Born Residents in Oulu

Township, 1889-1929. The largest number of Finns who

moved to Oulu Township came from the Gogebic Iron Range

of Wisconsin and Michigan and from Northeastern

Minnesota. Sources: See Fig. 3.

As could be expected, the greatest number of Finns who moved to

Oulu and Owen-Withee came from the mining districts of the Lake

Superior area. The magnitude and timing of the moves, however,

varied significantly. During the early years of settlement in Oulu

Township the largest number migrated from the Gogebic Iron

Range, with lesser numbers coming from Michigan’s Copper

County and Marquette Iron Range. At the turn of the century,

migration from the iron mining districts of Michigan continues, but

was supplemented by an approximately equivalent number of

arrivals from Minnesota. Many of the Minnesotans came from the

Mesabi Iron Range, although several individuals migrated from the

large Finnish colony centered in Duluth. During this entire period,

a small but steady stream of land seekers also emanated from

Superior; and a few from New England, Pennsylvania, Ohio, some

196

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

Superior

MINNESOTA

Huron

Owen • Withee

Number of Persons

WISCONSIN

MICHIGAN

IOWA

INDIANA

FIGURE 6. Prior American Residence of Finnish-Born Residents in the

Owen-Withee Area, 1911-1928. Before moving to the Owen-

Withee area, many Finns lived in Northern Michigan and

DeKalb, Illinois. Sources: See Fig. 4

FIGURE 7. Number of Finnish Family Units Migrating Annually to

Oulu Township and the Owen-Withee area, 1889-1929.

Sources: See Figs. 3 and 4.

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

197

of the western states and a few Wisconsin communities. Overall

there was a rather constant stream of F inns moving- from M ichigan

to Oulu Township between 1889 and 1914. Migration from

Minnesota, however, peaked during the years following the 1906

Mesabi Strike; of the twenty Minnesota Finns counted in the

sample, more than one half arrived during the 1906-1910 interim.

When considering the previous American residence of Finns who

moved to Owen-Withee, it is clear that the vast majority came from

northern Michigan. Most of these individuals settled in the area

during the 1911-1919 interim, the period of greatest sales

promotion by the Owen Lumber Company and land agent John

Pelto. As with Oulu Township, a significant amount of migration

originated in the Gogebic Range with the greatest number coming

from Wakefield, and from the Marquette Range city of Ishpeming.

When compared to Oulu Township, the number of Finns arriving

from Minnesota was much smaller. Although some migrated from

Sparta, Ely and a few other Minnesota settlements, the availability

of cutover lands in their home state undoubtedly lessened land

hunger for Wisconsin property. One community outside the normal

purview of Finnish-America, however, did contribute substantially

to the Owen-Withee total: DeKalb, Illinois. Unlike urban Finns in

Milwaukee, Kenosha and Racine who never were enticed to leave

their relatively high paying industrial jobs for rural areas, a rather

large proportion of DeKalb’s Finnish-American community heeded

John Pelto’s clarion call: “Become a farmer. . .”

The timing of migration to Owen-Withee requires final mention.

Migration activities peaked during 1914, the year of Pelto’s most

extensive promotional efforts; however, this also was the year

following the Michigan Copper Country Strike. While it might have

been expected that many jobless Finns in the Copper Country would

migrate to Owen-Withee, relatively few individuals considered in

this study chose this course of action.20 Instead, it was Finns from

the Marquette Range who most vigorously sought land in the Owen-

Withee area. It is still possible, nevertheless, that the migration

decisions of several Marquette Range inhabitants were influenced

by the conflict and carnage which occurred throughout the Copper

Country during 1913 and 1914.

CONCLUSION

Whether analyzed as an individual experience or as a collective

phenomenon, the migration process generally involves a complex

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Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

web of social, economic, political and/or psychological variables.

The migration regimen for many Finns who moved to the Upper

Midwest consisted of two major phases. The first involved the

journey from Finland to America, followed immediately by a period

of employment in one or more communities or areas.21 The second

phase occurred when the Finns left the mines, lumber camps and

urban areas to pursue life as farmers, primarily in the cutover

region. Whether this move was undertaken voluntarily or under

duress, the settlement and institutional activities of these in¬

dividuals constituted a distinguishing feature of the Finnish

experience in America.

Given the amount of information available, it appears that the

origins of a significant number of Oulu Township’s settlers can be

traced to two general areas or birthfields in Finland. Since the

birthfield located in the Province of Vaasa was a major area for

many Finnish emigrants, other Finnish-American settlements also

claim significant numbers of residents coming from this area of the

homeland. However, the other birthfield, focusing upon three

communes in the Province of Oulu, sent a larger proportion of its

emigres to Oulu Township than might have been anticipated. The

source area pattern for the Owen-Withee community, on the other

hand, was much more dispersed and reflected the broader

geographic base which characterized general Finnish migration

during the early twentieth century.

Before too much is made of the seemingly homogeneous group

that settled in Oulu Township, further work should be undertaken

in other early Finnish-American settlements. It is possible that the

transfer of cultural traits (e.g., architecture, cuisine, dialects, etc.)

might be studied more effectively if the specific communal or home

area of the immigrants is known and considered. Nevertheless,

many distinguishing cultural traits and nuances undoubtedly

blended together or were modified in some way once Finns came in

contact with large numbers of other Finnish natives, other

immigrant groups and Americans. As has been pointed out by

several observers (e.g., Jaatinen, 1972), most rural Finnish

communities in America were distinguished by their overall

cultural cohesion and homogeneity. Seeking “. . .to create per¬

manency amidst an impermanent environment” (Kaups, 1975),

many Finns, regardless of their place of origin in Finland or

political persuasion in America, participated collectively in the

development of rural communities within a new and sometimes

hostile land.

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

NOTATIONS

199

1. This quote, describing conditions in Northern Michigan, has

been attributed to J. H. Jasberg, an effervescent Finnish land

agent who was active throughout the Lake Superior area

(Wargelin, 1924).

2. These figures, and those for Michigan and Minnesota, have

been derived from the Federal Censuses for 1900 and 1920. Any

numerical ranking of the total foreign-born population by

country of birth or ethnic background has to be undertaken

with a great deal of caution. During 1900, for example, Poles

were listed by their place of birth: Austria, Germany, Russia or

unknown. Canadians, on the other hand, were divided into

French and English speaking groups. Although often thought

to be an ethnically homogeneous group, the Finns were

distinguished on the basis of their native or mother tongue. In

1920, about 12 percent of the Finnish-born population listed

Swedish as their mother tongue, and just under one percent

claimed Lappish and other languages; the remainder were

Finnish speakers.

3. The name of the Central Cooperative Exchange was changed to

the Central Cooperative Wholesale in 1930 and to Central

Cooperatives, Inc., during 1956.

4. 196Jf. Yearbook , Central Cooperatives, Inc. (Superior, Wis:

Midland Cooperatives, Inc., 1964), p. 37.

5. Whereas the sauna has become a popular institution in

America, the riihi — a building for the drying, threshing and

winnowing of grain— is less well known. For lucid descriptions

of these two vernacular building types see Kaups (1972; 1976).

6. Although the Finn who acquired a homestead could claim up to

160 acres of land, many did not; the majority bought 40 to 80

acre parcels from land agents, land companies and other

parties.

7. Finland was a Grand Duchy of Russia from 1809 to 1917.

8. Duluth News Tribune , March 4, 1907, p. 5.

9. One account of early settlement in the area reported the exploits

of two Finns who dragged a sled, ladened with a heavy stove,

from Superior to Lakeside Township during the dead of winter.

A severe blizzard slowed them down, whereupon they were

forced to spend the entire night making tracks through the

snow so the stove would not tip off the sled when they pulled it

(Aine, 1938).

200

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 65

10. For a description of the land fever which gripped Ashland

during this period, see the account in the “Annual Edition” of

the Ashland Daily Press , May 1893, p. 88.

11. Oulu Township was organized and named largely through the

efforts of Andrew Lauri, a tailor born in Finland’s Oulu

Province. Since local residents felt that Bayfield County

officials did not devote enough time and money to the western

area of the county, they petitioned to form their own township.

After some procrastination by the County Board, Oulu

Township was organized in December 1904, with Andrew

Lauri serving as the first chairman. See Historical Sketches of

the Town of Oulu: Bayfield County, Wisconsin, 1880-1956{ Oulu,

Wis.: Sunnyside Homemakers’ Club, 1956); and Amerikan

Uutiset (New York Mills, Minn.), Sept. 10, 1976, p.4.

12. “Our Most Thickly Populated Township,” Wisconsin

Agriculturist, Vol. 39 (Feb. 1915), p. 8.

13. For a broader summary of agricultural conditions in the

cutover region and Oulu Township, I am indebted to R. Zeitlin’s

“The Rankinen House,” unpublished manuscript prepared for

the Old World Wisconsin Research Office (Madison: State

Historical Society of Wisconsin), Oct. 26, 1976.

14. “Annual Edition,” Ashland Daily Press, May 1893, p. 88.

15. The Book of the Years: The Story of the Men who Made Clark

County (Neillsville, Wis.: Clark County Press, 1953), p. 23.

16. Also, emigration activity was more extensive throughout

Finland during the post-1900 period.

17. Between 1870 and 1914, approximately 16 percent of all

Finnish immigrants came from the Province of Oulu and 49

percent from the Province of Vaasa (Kero, 1974).

18. The overall figures for the communes have been derived from

Appendix A of Kero (1974).

19. Of the individuals considered in the two samples, only three

males and three females came directly from Finland to Oulu

Township; and one male and one female made the direct

crossing to Owen-Withee.

20. During and after the strike, a large number of Finns from the

Copper Country moved to Detroit and rural areas of Michigan

(Holmio, 1967).

21. A striking facet of Finnish-American settlement was the rather

considerable amount of geographic mobility displayed by many

immigrants. These moves were not undertaken randomly,

however, for a communications system consisting of letters,

1977]

Alanen — Rural Finns , Wisconsin

201

newspapers and person-to-person contacts directed Finns to

new areas and employment opportunities in America.

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