The Ghost Town of Summitville, Michigan: A Legacy of Christian Ancestors

Hosts: Doug Sharp and Rich Geer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuC2vNipNEg

This old ledger was donated to the Archives of Michigan on 11/28/2018. It is available for the public to view there.

Summitville, Michigan was a lumbering town on the Pere Marquette Railroad about four miles west of Chase. Today, there is very little evidence that there was a town at the junction of State Road and U.S. 10.  There is indeed a summit, which currently is etched with ORV trails, and the old railroad bed is also a trail. The book, Michigan Ghosts Towns by R. L. Dodge, Glendon Publishing, Las Vegas NV, 1971, has an entry about Summitville: In 1877 a village in Chase Township on the F. & P. M. Railroad, 9 miles west of Reed City. “Has one sawmill and seven other sawmills nearby. S. G. Randall, postmaster and station agent.” Samuel G. Randall was my great-great-great grandfather.

In my grandmother’s attic, I found the old ledger that belonged to Samuel G. Randall. It was apparently passed on to his son John Randall, then to his granddaughter Minnie Randall, who was the cousin of my great-grandmother Mable Randall. Minnie was married to Elmer Thompson and when Elmer died, he left an old lumber baron’s house in Lewiston to my grandmother, which our family used for many years as a vacation home. This ledger undoubtedly was found in Uncle Elmer’s old house. What follows are scanned images from the old ledger.

The entries in the old ledger start in 1839. What is remarkable about this book, though, is that it is filled with marvelous pencil drawings, poetry, music, newspaper clippings, letters and other pieces that are snippets of information about someone’s life.  My conclusion from the evidence found in this ledger is that these ancestors of mine were highly educated, intelligent, talented, and with spiritual qualities I have come to greatly admire, and hope to meet someday in heaven. It is my pleasure and privilege to share these snippets of Michigan history with you.

My impressions are that the people of that time took great pleasure in poetry, music, penmanship, and had a high regard for spiritual, romantic, and emotional expression.  The poetry by Edward Randall, especially the Indian’s Adieu, exemplifies the precise care that they took to craft their words to express their feelings.

This leads me to ask a question. What lasting legacies are we leaving behind that will be observed by our descendants 150 years from now? My ancestors’ testimonies of their faith in God is an inspiration to me, and I am certain by their actions I am reaping the benefits of their prayers.

Edwin Randall's Poems and Artwork - text transcribed

The Indian's Adieu

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Adieu to the grave where my fathers do rest

For I must be going alas to the west

I’ve sold my possessions my heart’s filled with woe

Alas I must leave all, Alas I must go

Adieu to the tall Oak, that pleasant green shade

Where I spent my childhood in innocent play

My dog and my hatchet, my arrow and bow

Alas I must leave all, alas I must go

Adieu to the scenes which do bind me like chains

As on my gray pony I pranced o’er the plains

The deer and the turkey will trace through the snow

Alas I must leave all, Alas I must go

Adieu to Rynogrally(?) That low broken stream

No more shall I visit the except in a dream

Likewise, to green bushes where cranberries grow

Alas I must leave all, Alas I must go

Adieu to the road which for many a year

I’ve traveled each Sabbath the gospel to hear

The news was so charming, it please me so

O’er the great Mississippi Alas I must go

Adieu to the white friends who taught me to pray

And worship my maker from day unto day

Oh, pray for poor native whose eyes overflow

With tears at our parting, it grieves me to go

Adieu, I have severed my last earthly tie

I am bound for the west with my Savior to die

A white marble pillar will point out my tomb

But Jesus will guide and take me up home

Dreams of Youth

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The sun in all his state appeared

And woke the glories of the day

And with his bright effulgence cheered

A thousand realms beneath his sway

I looked and to my ravished eyes

Arose a landscape spreading fair;

All blending with the misty skies

It faded from the vision there

Those forest lands and sunbright bowers

On that October’s dreamy day

Seemed one voluptuous sea of flowers

Stretching itself away – away

And far along a beauteous vale

A sunny river opened wide

While here and there a swelling sail

Was born upon the silvery tide

It minded me of that brigt land

And that divine immortal river

Along whose banks on either hand

The the tree of life blooms on forever

And nearer by – neath ancient trees –

A flock is resting on the green

Fanned by the fragrant morning breeze

That plays athwart the rural scene

Thus, after long tumultuous strive

By many a care and grief opprest

Perchance amid the groves of life

The worn and weary are at rest

Drawing of an Indian village

Putnam Saving Ford Edward (Newspaper Clipping),

Article

Dreamland Drawing (Sailing Ship & Lion)

Dreamland Poem

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Come sit by my side in the twilight

O girl with the violet eyes

And we’ll dream while far on the hill tops

The sunset splendor dies

Come lay your head on my shoulder

Your little hand in my own

And dream that the world is an Eden

That holds us two alone

Let us build us an airy Castle

In the Summerland of dreams

We will cover its lofty turrets

With the gold of the sun’s last beams

We will have there the brightest blossoms

And the sweetest singing birds

And their songs shall be just the echo

Of our softly spoken words

We will walk by the shores of the ocean

That girts our dreamland in

With the thought of the world’s commotion

Its bustle and busy din

But all that shall be calm and quite

In that Dreamland home of ours

With never a care or sorrow

To mar the peaceful hours

Town of Chase, Estranged

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Only one look of grieved surprise,

Yet I know that all is o’er

She never will lift her trustful eyes

To mine, confidingly, more,

I am shut by fate from mine Eden out

And may never enter again:

She has learned to view me with eyes of doubt

And my pleading is worse that vain.

But how can I bear this bitter grief

This dreadful weight of woe

The thought that she doubts of my truthfulness

The most cruel thought I know.

Edwin Randall

Post Card Brookside Michigan (1876 stamps)

Reverse Side

John Randall: my great-great grandfather

Balloon Clipping

Reverse Side

Social Dance at the Chase Hotel, 1872

Beautiful Dreamer

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Bird Drawing

Jay Bronson Ads

Ads 2

A Scene Among the Catskills

Cottage Newspaper Clipping

Drawing of the Creation

Edgar Randall Poem

Page 2

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Tis said with sorrow time can cope

But this I feel can ne’er be true

For by the death blow of my hope

My memory immortal grew

By day or night, In weal or woe

That heart, no longer flee

Must bear the love it dare not show

And silent ache for thee

Ah! Love was never yet without

The pang, the agony, the doubt

Which rends my heart with ceaseless sign

While day and night roll darkly by

May the Ruler of Heaven look down

And my darling, from evil defend!

May she ne’er know adversity’s frown!

May her happiness ne’er have an end

Sunbeam Rosebud

My Darling! If ever fondest prayer

For their weal availed on high

Mine will not all be lost in air

But give you peace until you die

There is a form on which these eyes

Have often gazed with fond delight

By day that form their joy supplies

And dreams restore it through the night

Drawing of a House

Minnehaha Falls, Lake Winnipegosis

Loch Levon

Drawing of Hair Locket (My sister has the real one)

Moore's Rural News

I am Lonely Since My Mother Died

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I am lonely since my Mother died

Though friends and kindred gather near

I cannot check the rising sigh

Nor stay, stay the silent heartfelt tear

Of earthly friends she was the best

My youthful erring steps to guide

Oh! Do not smile because I wail

I am lonely since my Mother died

You may not deem me brave or strong

To let these tears so often flow

But you who have lost a mother’s love

 Or tell the pain of my sad woe

Could but call her back again

And kneel once more down by her side

I would lover her better than before

I am lonely since my mother died

Oh, you who have a Mother dear

Yet not one word or ad give pain

But cherish, love her with your life

You ne’er can have her like again

Then when from earth she is called away

Across death’s dark and troubled tide

With me and pain you need not say

I am lonely since my mother died

Summitville, Summitville, Lake Co.

Edwin Randall Commercial Business

Jay Bronson 126 Michigan Avenue, Detroit Mich.

Detroit, New York City

Musketeer Drawing

Oliver Goldsmith Drawing

Regatta of the Yachts

Regatta on the Steamer

Rooster Clipping

Riverside N.J. on the Delaware River (Drawing)

Sailing Ship Drawing

Shallop Drawing

French Starch Enamel

View of Steubenville, Ohio

Summitville Signs

Sunnyside (Drawing)

Thomas Chatterton: One Marvellous Boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride.

The Norwich Journal October 13, 1830