The modern village of Laurium snuggles into Calumet, its next-door neighbor. The village was incorporated in 1889 as Calumet, but just five years later it was reincorporated under a different name. The village borrowed its new moniker from the Laurium Mining Company, a local copper mining outfit, and the name originated with an ancient mine in Greece. Laurium may have relinquished its original name so that Red Jacket could become Calumet and the newly rechristened Laurium could acquire its own post office, yet the village retains a unique character. Its historic downtown and the nineteenth-century mansions dotting its side streets offer silent testament to its glory days.
Like Calumet, Laurium has shed its dependence on mining — but not its appreciation for history.
By 1890, the village soon to be known as Laurium boasted a population of 1,159 residents. By 1895, when the village reinvented itself, the physical size of town had increased six times. On February 28 of that year, Laurium's first postmaster was appointed. African immigrants assisted in the digging of trenches for the village's sewer lines, further enhancing the ethnic diversity of the region. Within a decade, the population had burgeoned to well over 5,000. The explosion of newcomers triggered new problems — namely, crime. Luckily for the victims, in 1903 Laurium got its first hospital.
The year 1908 brought a flurry of burglaries and holdups that left residents in a tizzy. Law enforcement seemed unwilling or unable to stem the tide of crime. Two years later, the population had swelled to over 8,000. And by 1914, a gang of robbers dubbed "highwaymen" terrorized passengers on the streetcars in nearby Osceola. Expansion proved good for the economy, but bad for personal safety.
Humans weren't the only fugitives on the loose in northern Houghton County, however. In the early part of the twentieth century, Laurium townsfolk fought a guerrilla war against stray cattle, rounding up the bovine criminals by the dozens. Owners of the wayward cows incurred a fine of two dollars a head, a large sum at the time — especially for the farmers who lost a dozen or more cattle! The village brooked no lawbreakers, not even the four-legged kind.
Hecla Street in Laurium, circa 1914. A streetcar operated by the Houghton County Traction Company traverses the village. Photo courtesy of the Upper Peninsula Regional Digitization Center.
At one point, Laurium boasted its own airport and its own baseball team. Today, the old airport building houses the Bicentennial Ice Arena. Shortly after the nineteenth century turned into the twentieth, the village built the region's first indoor ice rink, the Superior Ice Palace. In 1914, the village hall was spiffed up and rededicated; today, the date on the building reads 1914, even though this wasn't its construction date.
The tiny town of Laurium earned its place in sports history in 1895. George Gipp, aka the Gipper, was born in the village on February 18 of that year. He would die just 25 years later, after developing pneumonia as a complication of strep throat. During his brief life, Gipp earned a reputation as a consummate sportsman, first helping Laurium's baseball team win the Upper Peninsula championships in 1915, and eventually gaining the distinction of becoming Notre Dame University's first All-American player. He achieved that honor in 1920, the year of his death. He's buried in Lakeview Cemetery, near his hometown. Fifteen years later, the village erected a memorial to Gipp, located on the corner of Lake Linden Avenue and Tamarack Street.
The memorial to George Gipp, located on the corner of Lake Linden Avenue and Tamarack Street. Photo by Lisa A. Shiel.
Despite the booming population, Laurium never built its own school system, instead relying on schools run by the mining companies. A parochial school cropped up too, but again, this was not a village-sanctioned endeavor. As the mining operations dwindled, so did the population of the Keweenaw as a whole. Laurium suffered the same decline, leading to the closure of its post office on New Year's Eve 1935. By 1980, the population was 2,676, but in recent years the numbers have fallen to an estimated 1,967 as of 2012. These days, the town relies on tourism to sustain its economic well-being. But ghosts of the mining days, both physical and metaphysical, still haunt the vicinity.
On an unassuming street in Laurium sits a house with a tragic and eerie past. Laurium Manor was built in 1906 by the Canadian-born Thomas Hoatson. In 1867, when Hoatson was six, his family relocated to Rockland, in the Upper Peninsula. Three years later, the clan packed up and moved to Calumet, where Thomas's father served as foreman of the Calumet & Hecla mine, holding the position until his death in 1897. Meanwhile, Thomas Hoatson followed his father's career path and accepted a job at C&H right after high school, in 1878. Just eight years later, Thomas married Cornelia Chynoweth, who would earn the nickname "dragon lady" due to her collection of dragon figurines.
Hoatson climbed the career ladder at C&H, achieving the position of "captain," a term applied to mine bosses. While at C&H, Hoatson amassed an impressive resume of accomplisments. His involvement proved a key factor in the formation of the Lake Superior & Western Development Co. — later renamed the Calumet & Arizona Mining Co. — which owned and operated a mine in Arizona. Hoatson also served as the director of First National Bank, the second vice president of Keweenaw Copper Co., and the vice president of Keweenaw Central Railroad, Hancock Consolidated Mining Co, and Superior & Pittsburgh Copper Mining Co. As if that weren't enough for one man, Hoatson would go on to serve as owner, director, or vice president of numerous other concerns in the mining, banking, and railroad industries. He must've eaten his Wheaties every morning!
Laurium Manor Inn, formerly the Hoatson House built by Thomas Hoatson. Photo by Lisa A. Shiel.
Not surprisingly, Hoatson's business acumen helped him stack up quite a bankroll and allowed him to live in luxury, in stark contrast to the lifestyle of most mine workers. In 1906, as a gift for his wife, Hoatson purchased a lot in the village of Laurium, demolished the two houses occupying the space, and erected a brand-new home for his wife and six children. The structure would stand at 13,000 square feet and feature 45 rooms, ranking it as the largest mansion in the U.P. After two years of construction, the family moved in to their new house, which would eventually become known as Hoatson Manor. Thomas passed away in 1929, but Cornelia would stay on in their manor, living alone, well into the 1930s. She then lived with relatives until her own passing in 1947.
By all accounts, the Hoatsons were a kind and generous couple. Their wealth permitted them to hire servants, including three maids, a handyman, and a chauffeur. The Hoatsons treated their servants well, and Cornelia even arranged for her maid's niece, and the niece's children, to move to America from Sweden, when the niece's husband turned abusive.
Two years after Cornelia's death, Maynard and Jane Hurlbert bought the Hoatson Manor. They relocated their business, the Thomas Funeral Home, into the first floor of the mansion, choosing to live upstairs. In 1979, in a tragedy rarely spoken of in the Copper Country, Maynard killed his wife and mentally handicapped foster son, then took his own life. Rumors circulated that Maynard had been diagnosed with a serious illness and, feeling helpless to care for his family in his worsening condition, he made the drastic and horrific choice to end all their lives. No one knows for certain what motivated the crime, but it remains a tragic chapter in the area's history.
Over the next decade, the manor would shift hands several times, and be stripped of many of its valuable antiques. In 1989, David and Julie Sprenger snapped up the property, transforming the once-proud, but now bleak, mansion into a lively bed & breakfast. The Sprengers financed their renovations all on their own, with no government aid. Restored to its former glory, the mansion — now rechristened Laurium Manor Inn — hosts a bevy of guests every summer. In 1994, the manor was added to the National Register of Historic Places. Today, Laurium Manor serves as a cooperating site in the Keweenaw National Historic Park, a large complex of sites scattered across the Keweenaw Peninsula.
The historical marker at Laurium Manor Inn. Photo by Lisa A. Shiel.
Do spirits haunt the old Hoatson manor? Given its long history, including a stint as a funeral home, Laurium Manor seems an ideal candidate for a haunted mansion. And a few folks have reported strange experiences there.
In 2008, three friends — a man and two women — stayed at the bed & breakfast. While her friends were in their room, the lone woman walked into her own quarters. An eerie sensation overwhelmed her, as if she were not alone in the room, and the urge to get out grew intense. Backing out of the room, she paused in the hall. Just then, a low cry echoed from inside her room. Curiosity eventually overwhelmed her fear, and she crept back into the room. A sense of foreboding swept through her, spurring her to leave the room, and indeed, the upper floor of the manor.
A little while later, the young woman ventured back up to her room, hoping the whatever-it-was had skedaddled. In the doorway of her room stood a little girl the woman had never seen before. She asked the girl, "Creepy, isn't it?" To which the girl replied, "Yeah."
The child then walked away.
Since the woman had agreed to meet her friends in a few minutes, she hurried off to her appointment. When she came back later, she hesitated on the stairs landing. A shrill beeping originated from inside her room. Confused by the noise, and overcome by another wave of foreboding, she tiptoed into her room. The noise was emanating from the alarm clock on the bedside table. The time read 2:22 PM. The woman had not set the alarm, but once she turned it off, the room began to feel normal to her again. After that, she suffered no more creepy sensations.
Did a ghost set off the alarm clock? Had the woman and the little girl sensed the presence of a spirit?
As with all ghost stories, answers elude us. But the possibilities tantalize our minds. Any location with a history as long and tragic as Laurium Manor could harbor a few ghosts.