Eventually, the story of exactly who does what, where and when is
written by folklorists, historians and other interested parties. It belongs to
everybody, after all.
But at the time of an event, especially when discovery occurs deep in a
trackless wild then leads to untold riches, who wins claim to credit determines
who goes on to live how. It's mostly winners who first alter the authentic narrative
that later becomes what we call "history".
Which means that oftentimes, nobody alive knows exactly what actually happened.
So we fill in the blanks as needed and when satisfied, call the compilation
true...
The southern Gogebic Range
For a critical few transformational years in America's history, the
Gogebic Range of the Superior Basin served as the nation's greatest producer of
iron ore.
Through frightful work, brave men scabbed wealth from beneath the
shrouded hills and with their labor helped make possible the transition of America
from an agrarian to an industrial society. With so much going on, the question
of credit for what led directly to that became a casualty of ambition.
What's true is that by 1848, federal and state geologists had mapped
the existence of iron ore across much of the ancient range. It was a hard,
inhospitable place said to be infested by insects and where even Indians didn't
go. The landscape rested in relative obscurity as attention turned to the
nation's first great mineral rush, the Copper Boom of the neighboring Keweenaw
Formation.
The year before, Richard 'Dick' Langford emigrated to the States from Ireland.
Then in 1852 or thereabouts and for reasons unknown, he'd found his way to the
Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There he
made of himself a hunter, trapper, prospector and general all around woodsy.
Langford wandered the dark region of the Gogebic alone, deeper than most any
white man had.
It's said that in 1868, Richard 'Dick' Langford sunk a test pit at a
promising site on the Gogebic, but didn't dig deep enough to find ore. Near
there and atop a hill in 1871 or '72, he discovered iron laden rocks wedged
into the roots of a fallen tree. The story goes that at some point, Langford
took an unemployed mining captain to the site.
What's true is that subsequently, D.T. Moore wasn't long unemployed.
Probably in 1873, analyzed samples of stone provided by Moore proved to
hold iron ore. On the strength of this he raised capital, bought the site and
by 1884 the legendary Colby Mine pumped iron all the way to furnaces in Erie PA,
to make steel for to build modern American cities, which then gave rise to a
radically new American narrative.
A year later, no fewer than seven mines were open on the Range. The
rush was on.
Later, D.T. Moore recalled how he'd been timber looking when he picked
up a reddish rock from between the roots of a fallen tree and the rest was
history.
That story's retold on the vintage Wisconsin State Historical Marker posted at a tourist's view of the Gogebic Range:
The officially sanctioned prose reads
in part:
Nathaniel D. Moore (sic) uncovered iron ore deposits in the Penokee
Gap near Bessemer in 1872, but it was not until 1884 that the first shipment
was made. The news spread rapidly, attracting speculators, investors, and
settlers. By 1886 there were 54 mines on the range and the area boomed, having
"inexhaustible deposits of uniformly high-grade Bessemer ores." For a
brief period stocks rose 1200 percent. The crash in 1887 ended the extravagant prosperity.
Well, not quite. There remained decades of fortunes to be made, lost
and made again, while the collective family of miners came and went. When they
stayed, most died poor and too often prematurely because the fortune mostly
flowed elsewhere.
This is what Richard Langford had to say about it, as quoted by Victor
F. Lemmer in his "Ghost Mines of the Gogebic Range", published in
1966:
My labors have brought wealth to
others and me to the poorhouse. I could have established my right to one-quarter
interest in the Colby Mine, but I did not care to take such a step. I never had
a lawsuit, been arrested, or served as a witness or juryman. In fact, I have
never been put under oath.
Image courtesy of the Philp J. Kucera collection
What's true is that blind and broke, Richard 'Dick' Langford died in
1909 at the age of 83, in the infirmary of the Ontonagon County poor farm.
Today, traces of both Langford and Moore remain on the Range. A short
piece on the hill from where the Colby was dug, there's this:
Upon which there's a plaque erected by the Daughters of the American
Revolution (no less) and take that,
Wisconsin State Historical roadside signage...
Then if you'd like a hint of the landscape that first drew Langford to the
Gogebic, head east and wander back roads through the Ottawa National Forest to
reach Langford Lake. It's at the shore of this lake that Langford's image was
captured in front of his shack, or so I once was told.
As for D.T. and/or Nathaniel Moore, we'll have to return here:
This is the best spot for passersby to get a look at that part a the
Gogebic Range left relatively unmolested through the mining years. You'll find
it at a quick pullover off U.S. 2 in Iron Co WI, a few miles west of Hurley.
Here you'll see a soft line of ancient hills that rise from a landscape
counted among the most pristine in Wisconsin. That distinction's earned the place
its own name, so today we call it the Penokee Hills. Whatever the name, rains run off its flanks add to a
watershed that feeds the entire region, then flows into the rice beds at the
Kakagon and Bad River Sloughs, before
nourishing Superior.
At the behest of their Florida partner the Cline Group (GTAC), downstate Wisconsin politicians intend
to make these hills disappear, as the last remaining scabs of iron in the once
fabled Gogebic remain buried deep within. It's poor quality ore, tough to get
at and retrieval is an exceeding dirty business, sure. But hey, someone's gotta
do it and these are hard stinkin' times. Or so the story goes.
Gazing from this wayside at some of the oldest mountains on the face of
the earth -- what used to be like the Andes or the Rockies but are now worn
with geologic time -- the State of Wisconsin's got your back because behind you
on official signage it tells the story of one Nathaniel D and/or D.T. Moore, a
once unemployed mining captain made definitely good.
But the way better bet is to keep
looking at those hills, while considering the story of the Hermit of
Gogebic County.
