a PubliCation of the genesee County historiCal soCiety
PLUS: Biographies:
Father Pengelly
Dave “Wahoo” Hoskins
Sarah Emma Edmonds
They Weren’t Really Gentlemen The Story of Biggest Bank Swindle of Its Time
Signs of the Times Local Iconic Signs
The Flint Journal Building Architecture
The Tale of the Vernors Gnomes
Biography:
From the Vehicle City Vault - pg 32
Today’s History Makers - pg 37
Greetings to all,
I am so pleased to present the very first issue of the Genesee County Historical Society magazine, The Historian! It is complimentary to our newsletter, The Citizen, which is provided to our members, communicating pertinent Society news, and articles of interest on a quarterly basis, primarily through a digital format. The Historian is a full-color, printed, in-depth, bi-annual publication mailed to Society members, though you can find it on a limited basis, available to the public, through our sponsors, or at supporting businesses.
The Historian includes great articles written by some of the outstanding writers in the Society about historical persons, places and things in Genesee County. The magazine also includes some of the 'best of the best' articles from The Citizen
This is a culmination of many hours of hard work, that could not have been accomplished without the efforts of our Editor, Tracy Fisher. She has worked tirelessly to plan, research, edit, organize and develop this publication, including writing some of the articles. The magazine is funded by sponsorship support (you’ll see their ads throughout), and we would like to sincerely thank them for making this possible, as well as the focus by our VP, Gary Fisher, who brought most of them together, conceived this project, and wrote some of the content.
If you enjoy history and life-long learning, consider joining the Society. Memberships are very reasonable, and your support will help us continue with our mission to preserve, promote, and document the history of Genesee County. You can join through our website, GeneseeHistory.org, by calling our office.
While the restrictions resulting from the pandemic have changed how we interact, nothing will change our commitment to advance and celebrate our history with passion. The Historian is our latest effor to do this, and we hope you thoroughly enjoy it!
Jackie Hoist Genesee County Historical Society President
People inadvertently make the mistake of perceiving history as a dusty thing, like the stiff black and white photos in a centuryold family album, the strong, musty smell of age overwhelming the connection with those people who once posed for the photographer. It’s more than memorized dates, more than events that happened to others, in a different time. What happened “before” led to today, and we hope that the way we present our stories in The Historian will help you to see history in a fresh way, through informed eyes, and to understand your own place in it. Plus, well…we think history is kinda cool…
Tracy Leigh Fisher Editor
Made possible with support from:
Fred Wetherald, Bus Driver
Brad Kearsey, Seated
Frank & Pete, Team (Owned by George Hensey)
Grand Trunk Depot, circa 1915
Photo courtesy of Sloan Archives
by Gary L. Fisher
Inside the warm and welcoming mahogany paneled confines of the Flint Industrial Savings Bank, the dapper bank executives crowded around an impressive heavy conference table. Outside, the autumn winds were blowing that October of 1929, and soon a seismic change across America and the world would blow in, as well. Inside the conference room, though, the executives’ designer leather shoes were as dry as their afternoon martinis, while the smiling visage of the Chairman of the Board of Directors, Charles Stewart Mott, looked down on the assemblage, from his portrait, hung with care in the room.
They made easy targets. By using a series of strategies, The League of Gentlemen had been systematically stealing depositors’ cash, to speculate in the wild Roaring 20’s stock market roller coaster.
They leveraged the old school “fake note” scheme, which required tight teamwork and skillful forgery. Another scam was to obtain bills and drafts destined for other banks and just filch them. They’d write out an IOU in the name of some local celebrity type, lying that those folks owned the shares, and claiming they were on deposit at the Flint bank. Then they’d attach the share certificates to the promissory notes as proof. The finishing touch was a forged signature. Then, the bank would loan money to the other “Gentlemen”--not the folks
But, this was no ordinary bank meeting. Rather, this was a conclave of the “League of Gentlemen”, the ironic and secret moniker the group had selected to identify themselves. No one from the outside could know…because this group was no ordinary group of bankers. They were, in fact, in the very middle of perpetrating the biggest bank fraud the United States of America had ever witnessed. Together, they would steal the 2021 equivalent of nearly 58 million dollars.
With minimum rules of engagement, and tactics that would soon be deemed illegal and usury in the 1930’s, millions of people worldwide were riding the rolling wave of irrational and careless exuberance.
whose names they’d forged. The gang had become so brazen they were even using Mr. Mott as one of their celebrity victims, forging his name freely.
Along with Mott, they forged GM and Chevrolet founder William C. “Billy” Durant’s name. When they ran out of local luminaries, they started going outside of Flint. Sticking with their auto industry theme, they faked Henry Ford documents, too. Sometimes, they’d simply rob safe deposit boxes, stealing the money like convenience store thugs--albeit in very nice suits and matching ties and shoes. They were gentlemen after all.
In Flint, the League of Gentlemen had formed because they were
surrounded by OPM (Other People’s Money) amidst the roiling stock market. Every day in the Vehicle City, more money poured in to the ascending automobile industry. Buick, Chevrolet, AC Spark Plug, Dupont, and General Motors were growing by leaps and bounds. Millionaires were minted on the regular. New homes rose on Circle Drive, Woodlawn Park Drive, and swanky neighborhoods on Miller Road. It seemed everyone was getting rich. The League of Gentlemen wanted their taste, and they had no intention of waiting around for a measly raise or promotion. No, they were just going to take it. In a most gentlemanly fashion, of course.
Frank Montague, bank Vice President, didn’t even think of it as stealing. He called it “borrowing money without approval.” Better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission in his mind. His pal in the gang, Milton Pollock, was a handsome 39-year-old, and also a Vice President on the rise. Pollock had a sick wife at home. Health care and drugs were very expensive. This seemed like a solution.
Next to them was Ivan Christensen, the bank’s assistant cashier. He was pilfering because, well, he liked money! Plus, he was building a new home in Flint for $75,000 ($1,141,000 in 2021 dollars). He was hoping no one would question how he was pulling it off on an assistant cashier’s salary. He was early to the game, at it for two years now.
He was a church deacon, often introduced to others as a “Pillar of The Church”. His ornate home on Woodlawn Park Drive, off of Court Street, hosted the elite of Flint in lavish parties that included some of the city’s most wealthy and influential citizens. Nattily dressed, with the requisite gold banker’s pocket watch, spectacles and tie clip, he brought the meeting to order. Here, The League could begin their business of lying, cheating, and stealing in an organized and always classy fashion.
In truth, the League had only organized as a team when members started discovering that there were others embezzling. As it happened, the bank was literally filled with crooks. It was like finding out that there are a group of sports enthusiasts and athletes in your office all at once. But instead of forming a bowling league or fantasy baseball league, the office sport was larceny. So, they formed their own kind of league. Instead of goofing off by playing video games or surfing the web as some might do today, they focused their efforts on thievery – and really bad investment decisions.
One of the many challenges that The League faced was their almost impossible ineptitude at investing. Given their unique access to information and capital, in a rising market, they still managed to sustain crippling losses. Were it not for the unlimited access to OPM only the most prideful and belligerently stubborn gambler would have continued. But then again, it wasn’t their hard-earned money. Yet, still they remained optimistic.
Settling into the rest of the heavily cushioned seats were lowerlevel conspirators, as well. Sipping their hot coffees, the balance of the League included: James Barron, George Woodhouse, Russell Runyon, Clifford Plumb, Mark Kelly, David McGregor, Arthur Schlosser, Robert McDonald, Elton Graham, and Farrell Thompson. Also, notable amongst them was Robert Brown, the 28-year-old son of the Flint Industrial Savings Bank President, Grant Brown. Dad was supposedly clueless about Junior’s gangster doublelife, and he aimed to keep it that way.
Brown Jr. was particularly wary of getting caught. His dad, Grant, was a high-profile big hitter. The Brown family was called a “Flint First Family” based on their “strong moral foundation”. Brown senior had been a bank examiner, catching crooks including embezzlers like the League of Gentlemen. He ran the bank based on “Strong Christian principles”, as he put it.
One person who admired the Brown family was the man sitting at the top of the table, John de Camp, the bank’s Senior Vice President.
The key driver of their high hopes was that they all expected the stock market to surge forward to hit a new, all-time high at the end of October 1929. After all, the esteemed professor Dr. Irving Fisher, the first ever Yale PhD in economics, had recently commented on the stock market by saying that “Stock market prices have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau.” What could go wrong?
On Tuesday, October 29th, 1929 the answer was pretty much everything.
An unprecedented meltdown in the overheated, unregulated, and raucous market crushed millions of personal fortunes, and in so doing, brought down the League of Gentlemen and their wild Ponzi scheme. An emergency meeting was held in the same conference room that only a few weeks earlier had hosted their optimistic cabal. The mood this time was decidedly less rosy. Realizing that their losses would not, and likely could not, be recouped, they decided it was time to come clean. Several members refused to acquiesce, but when others insisted, threatening to go public, the holdouts packed it in.
Continued on page 30
Historical Architecture
By Gary L. Fisher
In every picture of downtown Flint for nearly 100 years, she stands out as an iconic fixture. Straight, strong, and 16 stories tall, unmovable, she’s weathered the storms of a Great Depression, World War 2, and six other wars. She bore witness to Flint’s greatest booms and greatest busts. Positioned at the corner of First and Saginaw, she watched as an entire block across from her—perhaps the most historic block—was decimated to make room for a parking lot. She stood tall, as beside her, the Garden Theater was steamrolled to make room for a modern, new tower. That tower is now gone. She remains.
She watched the 50 millionth General Motors Car roll past her in the 50s. Today, she watches the Back to The Bricks party, and the Bobby Crim Festival of Races, protests, and parties, Buick Model Bs, and Teslas roll by. In front of her strode the giants of manufacturing: Billy Durant, Alfred Sloan, Walter Chrysler, Charles Nash, Louis Chevrolet, Albert Champion, as well as Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Truman, Roosevelt, Obama, Trump and Biden. There have been parades for athletes and Olympic champions, like Jimmy Abbott, Pam and Paula Mcgee, Jeff Grayer, and many more.
From high on her perch, she’s overlooked the bricks as they’ve aged, as the buildings have morphed from shiny and new, well-lit, artful architectural beauties, to near rubble, and then ascendant again. It’s a lot to take in. But she can handle it. She is formidable. She is resilient.
She is the Mott Foundation Building. Originally called the Union Industrial Building, after the Union Industrial Trust and Savings Bank, which opened its doors to the public on December 15, 1930, at the very beginning of the Great Depression, and right on the heels of the biggest bank fraud scandal in the American history (story, page 6), perpetrated right down the street at the bank’s original address. The bank was ill fated. Less than three years after its opening, it was closed by President Roosevelt’s ‘bank holiday’, never reopening. Its depositors were made whole by the Mott Foundation, and Charles Stewart Mott, the same man who had bailed it out after the thievery scandal.
From 1933 to 1944, the building was operated by conservators. During this time, the City of Flint came very close to purchasing the building as the City Hall, but the city decided not to go forward with the plan. Not unlike many of the Flint city mechanizations over the decades, the reasons remain murky. So on May 1, 1944, C.S. Mott purchased the building, renaming it the Mott Foundation Building, on January 1, 1945.
In this column we talk to a variety of history professionals to answer your questions about history, archives, city records, genealogy, and more!
Board member, Historian/Archivist for the Genesee County Historical Society, and University of Michigan archivist, Colleen Marquis answers your most common preservation questions for your family documents and photographs. She is a professional with almost ten years worth of experience in document preservation and works at the Genesee Historical Collections Center at the University of Michigan - Flint.
Chances are you have a lot of precious memories in photo format somewhere in your house. Negatives long since gone, these photos are all that remain of important moments and people. How you store these photographs will depend on how long these memories lastunless of course you digitize the photos.
First off, get all original prints OUT of frames. Do not display original photos as the constant exposure to light will cause them to fade. Frames also make it difficult for the photo to off-gas properly and can cause yellowing.
Photos, like all documents, should be kept at a cool and constant temperature. Extreme fluctuations in temperature adds stress to the medium your photos are printed on and can lead to cracks and peeling on the surface. Keep items cool, not cold, as extreme cold can actually do more harm than good.
Make sure they are stored somewhere dry. Again, consistency is important when it comes to humidity. For example, basements and attics are terrible places for photographs, but that is one of the most common places to find hordes of them!
with a lid, a cooling rack for baked goods, and enough distilled water to just cover the bottom of the container. Put the small amount of water into the container and set the cooling rack inside - only the feet of the cooling rack should be touching the water. Then place photos on the rack (not directly in the water!) and seal the box for an hour or two. Do not go over four hours as you increase the risk of mold growth.
For most photos you will see them relax pretty quickly. Remove from the humidifier as soon as you notice the photos uncurling. Place them between parchment paper or freezer paper to protect them and press under heavy books for a couple of days. Voila, flat photos! This method also works wonderfully for documents, maps, posters - anything that has been rolled up for years and years.
Photos should be individually sleeved in archival sleeves, or at least somehow separated from each other, using an acid and lignin free paper. If the paper the photo is touching is acidic the photo will discolor over time. The benefit of a plastic sleeve is it keeps the photo, front and back, viewable while also safe to handle with bare hands. For older photos or different formats, like daguerreotype or tintype images, you may want to consider an opaque enclosure to further prevent any accidental light exposure.
Do not over wrap your photographs. You may think the more hermetically sealed the better but this is not true! As paper breaks down it produces a variety of gases that can speed up decay. Definitely do not laminate anything! Leave a vent for gas to escape in any enclosure you use. This goes for outer housing as well. Do not store photos in sealed buckets or containers as that will trap the gasses.
Curled photos? You can actually gently and slowly humidify photographs to aid in flattening. First, make sure the photos are clean, use a clean medium weight brush to remove any stuck-on dirt or grime. To humidify curled photos, I use a clear Rubbermaid container
Old photo albums? If photos are loose in an old paper album, see if you can remove them safely. Most paper photo albums from the past are made of extremely cheap, damaging paper. If you are lucky, many old glues dry out and the photos will easily pop off. Sometimes, photo holders were used and that also makes removing photos easy. For more modern photo albums, remove photos if the album does not adequately provide for ventilation or uses some kind of adhesive backing. If you cannot remove the photos safely do not force it. It is better to wait a few decades to see if the glue dries out further than risk ripping a photo. Simply keep the album clean, cool, and dry.
If you digitize your photos make sure to scan at least 300 dpi (dots per inch) and save the files in a couple of different places to ensure that if one system fails you have a back up. I typically have two copies in a cloud storage system and two hard copies saved to two different drives. Be sure to include as much information with the file as possible - names, dates, and locations are crucial to historic photographs.
Sixteen years before Flint officially became a city, the very first newspaper to be published in Genesee County was the short-lived “Flint River Gazette”, in 1839, by Joseph K. Averill. Mr. Averill had transported his press, fixtures, and type from a small town in New York State, traveling by wagon and water, to Detroit and then north to Flint. Establishing a newspaper during those early decades of our county’s existence was a risky venture; at least ten different papers had been founded in the city before the creation of the “Flint Journal”. The Fourth Estate—the press—not only chronicled the people and events of the community, but it also exerted major influence over political opinion, policies, and politicians of our burgeoning county. --Editor
By Bailey Ramirez
that The Flint Journal has been around for 145 years? In 1876, the paper was founded by Charles Fellows, who had been a writer for Flint’s Wolverine Citizen , and Washington Irving Beardsley. At its inception, it was a Democratic weekly newspaper, competing against the Genesee Democrat (1845), The Flint Globe, a Republican paper (1866), and the Wolverine Citizen (1850), a Whig-turnedanti-slavery-Republican paper. After changing hands twice, George McConnolly, a newsman out of Bay City, purchased it in December of 1882, and transitioned the weekly paper into a Republican daily, calling it the Flint Daily Journal . The scrappy paper changed hands
again, twice, before being obtained by Howard H. Fitzgerald, in 1902, who consolidated the Journal with the Flint Globe, growing it to one of the largest dailies in the State. In 1911, it was acquired by George Gough Booth, who was president of the Detroit News and owner of many other Michigan newspapers. By 1919, the Flint Daily Journal had the fourth largest paid circulation of all of the Michigan’s newspapers. The Journal extended into radio broadcasting, becoming partners with Frank D. Fallain, a local broadcaster, putting Flint’s first station, WEAA (later to become iconic WFDF after its founder), on air. Finally, in 1935, the name was shortened to The Flint Journal , as we know it today.
When Booth bought the Journal , its offices were on First Street,
Being a writer or photographer for the Journal has held prestige. Among the most venerable of the Journal's staff was William M. Gallagher, who snapped this photo of Adlai Stevenson, during a presidential campaign appearance in Flint in 1952. Entitled "Adlai Bares His Sole" Gallagher's photo gained acclaim and garnered the Pulitzer Prize in photography in 1953.
but they were quickly outgrowing that space. In the early 1920’s, Booth hired well-respected Detroit architect Albert Kahn, who had previously designed the Detroit News Building, to design the new office and printing building. Construction was complete by 1924, and the Journal was fully operating from its new facilities. The new Flint Journal Building, constructed on the corner of East First Street and Harrison Street, is a three and a half story, limestone clad building. The architectural style of the original building is ‘Revival’ style due to its characteristics including a flat roof, masonry construction, impressive size, rounded arched entry and windows, and other classical details. The eight-bay façade along First Street includes the off-center main entrance, which is recessed into the building and trimmed with dark green granite. The facing along Harrison street continues with three additional arched window bays. Unique to this building are the stone carvings along both façades; above the arched windows are a series of relief figures in round medallions. On the Harrison Street side, these figures represent knowledge, research, literature, science, art, music, printing, and engraving. The adjacent rectangular reliefs represent the attributes of free press, including vigilance, wisdom, truth, accuracy, and industry. Farther up the building, between the second and third rows of windows, are another series of stone embellishments. These reliefs represent prominent printers from more than three-hundred
years of printing in Europe. Another distinctive characteristic of the building is the large mural on its East façade, painted in 1978, by the artist named Blue Sky. The mural titled Overflow Parking, characterizes the late 20th century American Society (see page 15 for more on the mural). This beautiful piece of downtown Flint history was deservedly added to the National Register of Historic Places in December 2013.
A large, two-and-a half-story addition on Harrison Street was designed in 1952 by Detroit architect William Kapp. Similar to the municipal buildings along Saginaw street, the addition is recognized as International style, which is characterized by linear expanses of window groupings, contrasted by flat limestone surfaces. It has five bays of large windows on the first floor with wide, corresponding tripartite windows on the floor above. In 1965, an addition was made to this portion of the building, about half the length of what was previously constructed, and had no windows.
Nearing the end of 2014, Michigan State University began leasing the Flint Journal Building, through ‘Uptown Reinvestment,’ in an effort to expand their medical education and public health programs in Flint. Although the building’s use is no longer the same, the Flint Journal Building still stands as a stunning piece of Flint history.
By Tracy Leigh Fisher
After his work Tunnelvision—an illusion of a vehicular tunnel passing through a building toward a sunrise—was covered by People magazine in February of 1976, the artist Blue Sky was contacted to create a mural in Flint for the side of The Flint Journal building. Not being amenable to recreating another tunnel, he proposed what became “Overflow Parking”, two years later. Sky said in a 1979 video, “An automotive painting might be more appropriate for Flint, since they manufactured Buicks…and Chevrolet Trucks. It’s an automotive city.”
“I began looking at cars really hard. I knew it was going to be a car painting. I wanted to convey the beauty of the parking lot: the geometry, the lines, the cars glistening like jewels. If you were from another planet and you were flying over the city, the cars would look like jewels -- different colors, sparkling in the sun,” his website recalled.
The colorful painting overlooks the parking lot that spans the space between the old Flint Journal building (now the Michigan State University College of Human Medicine) and the Flint Farmers Market.
Studying a Boston traffic study to understand traffic flow, Sky
incorporated thoughtful details into the design, “The cars are the actual size of real cars. I added little mirrors on the chrome so that when you drive by, the sun hits them and they sparkle. I put disorder into it like skid marks, burnt rubber. There are actual tire tracks on the wall.”
If you look closely, you will also find oil drippings, rust and radiator fluid stains, and a discarded Styrofoam cup. The first car painted was the Pontiac La Mans in the top left corner, followed by a Lincoln Continental, a new Cutlass Supreme, and in the top right a Buick Roadmaster with a real blinking tail light.
The premier trompe-l’oeil artist, born Warren Edward Johnson, in South Carolina, legally changed his name to Blue Sky “to match his inner spirit”, in 1974, during a period of experimentation with LSD. He has been told that he is on the autism spectrum, which he finds to be beneficial in his ability to create. He sculpts, as well, and has over two dozen large-scale murals to his credit, many of which can be found in Columbia, South Carolina and the surrounding areas, which is where he calls home.
He hoped that people enjoyed “his artistic solution to the parking problem in Flint.”
played an important part of everyday life for centuries. Perhaps the first sign ordinance appeared in England in 1389 when King Richard II ordered every tavern to display a sign outside their premises. But it is in American history, within the last 100 years, that signs have advanced more than in the previous 5000 years. We rely on signs everyday to direct us, inform us and persuade us. So, we decided to look at signs that have been part of our daily lives. Signs that most County residents would recognize; the historic iconic signs of Genesee County that we have come to know and would reminisce about if they were gone.
by Ron Campbell and Jackie Hoist
Possibly the highest sign in Genesee County, it not only became a corporate image but also became an identifying feature of Flint’s skyline. The Weather Ball first topped the headquarters of Citizens Bank in 1956. Along with it came the jingle, still recited today, and a corporate marketing campaign that span half a century. Through several stylized graphic interpretations, it became the corporate symbol and recognized logo for Citizens Bank. It was so popular that Mr. CB, the weather caricature, was created. Three banks recognized a good thing and have kept it part of Flint’s skyline, with Huntington Bank currently carrying on the tradition. It was built on site over a four-month period. The ball is 15 feet in diameter and 47 feet in circumference; 667 feet of red, yellow and blue neon lighting; 800 square feet of Plexiglas. It can be seen for 25 miles and can withstand winds of 120 miles per hour. It still operates with the technology of 1956, just as it always has; the lights are turned on manually and the color selection is made based on the US weather report. For many years, well-known meteorologist, John McMurry, was the source behind the color of the ball's displayed. It’s not the only weather ball nor the first, but it is unique and definitely an iconic part of Genesee County history.
When the Weatherball is red
Higher temperatures ahead
When the Weatherball is blue
Lower temperature is due
Yellow light in the Weatherball
Means there’ll be no change at all
When colors blink in agitation
There’s going to be precipitation
Why? Because the white horse has been standing at the corner of West Court and Ann Arbor Streets for nearly 50 years is all that is needed to identify this longtime Flint restaurant. Yes, we are talking about the White Horse Tavern. According to owners Steve and Chris Poulos, the horse was commissioned by their father, John, in the early 1970s, for the opening of the neighborhood tavern, in 1973. The horse is constructed of fiberglass and stands 13’-6” tall; 35’ from the ground on a structure that has its own address and its own utility service separate from the Tavern. The horse has never had a name and has only one 'outfit', a red blanket which is displayed nearly every holiday season wishing all who pass “Seasons Greetings”. The one year they didn’t blanket the horse they heard about it; the horse has been blanketed every year since.
Poulos commissioned an artist from Mio, who made the horse for $5000. Unknown until the mid1980s, the artist revealed that he actually made two horses, but sold only one to the Poulos’s. The artist was looking for some extra cash, agreeing to sell the second horse to them for $500. The original horse still stands tall, with its sire waiting in the wings, ready when needed to take its place.
If you have ever been in the Miller Road area in Flint Township, you probably passed the hat. The iconic Arby’s hat sign, that is. This is one of the few signs left, anywhere in the country, from the early years of Arby’s and the birth of another corporate logo. In 1964, brothers Forrest and Leroy Raffel took a big chance, when they decided to leave the restaurant consulting and equipment business that they had purchased from their uncle in the 1950s and go into the rage of the time – Fast Food. But with a twist; it would be an upscale fast food. They turned to a small sign company in Boardman Ohio to design a sign for their first restaurant about to open in the same town. Gerald Peskin and his father owned the sign shop and set about creating a sign that would brand this startup restaurant as upscale fast food and reflect the wild west so popular at the time. The stylized ten-gallon hat hit the mark with the Raffle brothers and was installed at their first restaurant in Boardman Ohio and several thousand restaurants thereafter. The sign soon became the corporate logo of Arby’s and today only a few of these original signs remain around the country. Despite modifications made over the years the famed cowboy hat has been the image of the company for more than half a century. Not all of Peskin’s original design idea came to fruition. In addition to the ten-gallon hat Peskin’s early design ideas included poles shaped like cacti that supported the sign. The western theme didn’t end at the sign but also carried into the architecture of the building with the curvilinear roof entry representing the famed Conestoga wagons that took pioneers west. Some of the remining original signs have been modernized and made more efficient without loss of character and the GCHS is ready to help preserve one of the last of this sign type. Our hat is off to you Arby’s, and to you Flint Township for preserving this iconic image. May this historic sign long endure in Flint Township.
An old adage says that “you can never return home”. While that is true in many ways, familiar features and landmarks from the ‘old homestead’ signals you’re at least in the ‘old neighborhood’. As those indicator landmarks disappear the farther one is from home. In time the landmarks are gone and all you have to rely on are memories. There is hardly a time when I come into town that I don’t recall the conversation I had with my mother forewarning me of a long legged, mini-skirt wearing lady that I was sure to see on a return from college. Apparently, it was the talk of the neighborhood, and I had little idea what to expect coming from my very proper English born mum, who refused to give me any more information. Assuming the worst, as I traveled along the last leg of my journey, there it was, I couldn’t have missed it. She was everything my mum said she would be. Blond hair done in a ponytail, large breasts and a short, very short form fitting mini skirt standing high above the sidewalk at the corner of Corunna Road and Knight Avenue. In her high heels she stands around 14’ tall. She is constructed out of fiberglass made by Earl Daup Sign Ltd in 1978 for Colonial Coney Island at a cost of $7,000. She was removed from her pedestal in 2014 by Signs by Crannie for places unknown. More than two dozen people, some of three generations, gathered on the day to watch this iconic sign come down. Building owner Yanni Mavrikos said he took down the “Big Girl” to protect her from vandals. They thought of storing her in the building, but she was just to big. Mavrikos eased fears of destruction when he was quoted as saying “She’s my baby, I’ve got feelings, believe me.” Gone from her original location, many hope to see her once again, somewhere in the County, beckoning you to come in for a tasty meal and malt. But with her absences I’m a little further from home now, relying only on memories.
These are just a few of the iconic and historic signs that add richness to our communities and our lives. If you have signs in your own community and would like to add it to future Signs of the Times articles, let us know!
Photos courtesy of Ron Campbell
We’re all about your community. Because it’s ours, too.
It can be easy to forget to stop and appreciate this place: our community. At Huntington, we see it as our responsibility to not just appreciate Genesee County, but to always be looking for ways to make it better. That’s why we’re making a number of investments right here. Check them out at huntington.com/Community. Because when our communities thrive, we all live better.
By Tracy L. Fisher
The soldier, riding a mule, was carrying the mail from Washington to Centerville during the Second Battle of Bull Run. Taking a short cut from the intended route, the rider and beast were crossing a muddy, wet, wide ditch, when the animal reared, toppling into the rut headlong, tossing the passenger with force against the inside wall. Hooves sinking in the muck, the heavy mule worked desperately to liberate itself, in the process, injuring the stunned rider further. Finally, as the sounds of cannons blasted the air, the soldier found the will to climb from the ditch, painfully creeping toward the waiting creature. Struggling to remount with a crippling leg injury and excruciating side pain, the Yankee regimental postmaster readjusted the mailbag, and with great alacrity, rode toward the battlefield to make the urgent delivery. Once there, the soldier sought the doctor in the rear of the line, asking only for salve for the leg, making no report of the accident, though it became apparent that internal damage was causing hemorrhaging of a lung. Had it not been for the nursing and care of fellow friends, the soldier might have died.
Why not report the injury? Why suffer, risking death? Because the young, boyish soldier from Flint, Michigan, known as Frank Thompson, was in truth, a woman. She could not risk discovery in a medical examination of her lungs: she would have been dismissed from service, and treated as a criminal, as it was illegal for a female to disguise herself as a man, and to serve in the military.
Born Sarah Evelyn Emma Edmondson, in 1841, in rural New Brunswick, Canada, she was the youngest child of an Irish-born mother, Betsy, and a hardhanded, authoritarian father, Isaac, who held little value for females, treating them cruelly. “In our family the women were not sheltered but enslaved…”, she wrote. At fifteen, she was promised in an arranged marriage. Emma ran away to a neighboring town, but after discovery by her father, she created a male persona, then “vanished”.
Making her way from Canada peddling Bibles, Emma finally settled in faraway Flint, Michigan, continuing to fully live under a male guise. When war was declared in April of 1861, when she was 20 years old, she was conflicted. “But the great question to be decided, was, what can I do? What part am I to act in this great drama?”, she wrote in her 1864
memoir, Nurse and Spy in the Union Army. Within a month, she had passed the Army’s cursory and questionable physical—women were forbidden from serving—and enlisted in the United States Army, Company F, Second Michigan Volunteer Infantry Regiment, as a private, in the militia unit known as “Flint’s Union Greys.”
“Frank” then boarded a train for Washington D.C., a city jammed with thousands of troops, encamped for miles around, drilling, practicing artillery, and building forts. There he worked, nursing hordes of those sick with dysentery and typhoid, until his unit received its marching orders. He partook in the 1st Battle of Bull Run, the Siege of Yorktown, Battle of Williamsburg, Battle of Fredricksburg, and the 2nd Battle of Bull Run, on occasion picking up a weapon against the Confederates, and barely evading capture when tending to the battlefield wounded. Throughout his two years soldiering, he acted as mail carrier, field nurse, which included caring for the wounded and burying the dead, an aide-de-camp for Colonel Orlando M. Poe, and purportedly, eleven times as a spy, crossing into enemy lines under different disguises. During excursions in the swamps of the Chickahominy, in Virginia, Frank contracted malaria. Once again, he chose not to seek medical attention at the military’s infirmary, instead requesting a leave, which was rejected, forcing him to check into a private hospital. When cured, Frank discovered he was labeled a deserter, which was punishable by death. So ended the secret career of Sarah Emma Edmonds.
In 1864, she penned her memoir anonymously, selling over 175,000 copies, all proceeds donated to soldiers’ aid causes. She married Linus Seelye, with whom she had three children and adopted two. When she was 43-years-old, she attended a veterans reunion, revealing her true identity to her fellow warriors. Eventually, her wartime maladies became overwhelming, and, in 1884, due to financial difficulties, she applied for a military pension. After acquiring formal written support from her military friends in Flint to back her appeal, to prove “Frank” was truly “Emma”, and to drop the desertion charges, her pension was approved by Congress. She is considered the only known woman to have received a Civil War pension.
Emma did not live long past the award, passing away in 1898 from her illnesses, in La Porte, Texas, where she is buried as a Union veteran.
For more fascinating details, please visit our website: GeneseeHistory.org/sarah-emma-edmonds
long before motorcars or rocket ships or smartphones with apps, lived James the Pharmacist. James spent his days concocting tonics and serums to cure people of all sorts of sicknesses, like ague, dyspepsia, and biliousness. James, who was well-know for his meticulous nature, was working on a secret extract of warm and sweet spices from across the world. He used vanilla from Madagascar and ginger from Shandong, which he blended in oaken casks. But, one day, James was called away to fight in a terrible war, and so the casks sat, for years, waiting. When James returned, he finally tasted his brew. “Deliciously different!” he exclaimed, and named it Vernor’s, after himself. The magical, medicinal properties—along with its wonderful taste—became beloved by the citizens, and his extra-fizzy, wizardly potion grew famous throughout the land.
Or so the story goes...
by Tracy Leigh Fisher
Vernors, or Vernor’s, as it was originally spelled with the apostrophe, is a regional carbonated favorite, created by James Vernor, in Detroit, purportedly before he left for the Civil War, in 1862, making it the oldest soft drink in the United States, though that is disputed by Dr. Pepper. The company was run by the Vernor family until 1966, when it was sold to a group of investors. It has changed hands many times since then, and today is part of, ironically, Kuerig Dr. Pepper.
The earliest known appearance of the gnome was in 1924. He really has no moniker, though there was an attempt in the 1970s, “Jerome the Gnome”, which quickly fizzled out. Today, the latest company who owns the brand has christened the little fellow on the can, “Woody”.
One of the most prominent types of advertising since the 1830s has been outdoor, hand-painted murals. Before the advent of neon and vinyl, these massive paintings hit their stride in the 1920s-40s, and
could be found along roads and highways on barns and silos. In cities, of course, the sides of buildings provided wonderfully large, eyecatching canvases.
This is when our mythical mural came to be, springing to life in 1932, under the brush strokes of John Gonsowski and his partner, Keith Martin.
Johnand the gnomes seem to have been meant for each other. Growing up in Rowno, Poland, in a country of peasants and nobles, extreme poverty and immeasurable wealth, his imagination was filled with tales of Poland’s legendary winged Hussar knights, fearsome, cave-dwelling dragons, silver-haired water-nymphs, an enchanted golden duck, and a mouse army that ate greedy people, who poisoned their relatives.
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Truly, though, Poland, for the poor, could be a harsh and desperate life, so in 1913, when John was fifteen, his father and he departed for the United States, leaving behind his mother and his siblings, hoping to save enough money to later pay their passage. The three-month journey and its views fed his vivid imagination. From the most northern region of Poland they traveled by wagon, crossing river and valley, passing far off medieval, Gothic and Renaissance castles, perched with their towers, turrets, and battlements, on mountainsides. Father, son, and fellow travelers, numbering five when they reached Vienna, bribed guards to cross the border. Their band grew to thirty through Italy, until they reached the blue Adriatic port city of Trieste. Their first steps on North American soil took them to Quebec, then by train to Windsor, and finally crossing the strait by ferry to Detroit.
In 1940, Peerless Mattress moved into the hardware, retaining the beloved mural, and in 1979, Urban Walls, an adhoc committee of the FEAT Foundation energized a major renovation movement, raising $24,000. Much of the funds were donated by Thomas’ Halo Burger, the Vernors Corporation, the FEAT Foundation, and the Michigan Council for the Arts. Eller Outdoor Sign Co completed the work; the chief artists were Donna DeVantier and Michael Perry, and much of the labor was donated. Mr. Gonsowski, himself, acted as advisor.
John Gonsowski, photo courtesy of “NIETZSCHE Then John: The Story of John Gonsowski”, by M.A. O’Neil
Though he spoke three languages, none were English. Wrestling with that encumbrance, John eventually was apprenticed to a decorative painter, Frank Sobzienski, where he was introduced to color-theory and woodworking, and by 1921, was hired by Walker Sign Company of Detroit. Traveling extensively as he perfected his craft, the company eventually transferred him to Flint, where in 1924, he opened his own business, General Signs Company.
Vernor’s had opened a distributorship in Flint, in what is today’s downtown Halo Burger, a striking building, that still retains some remnants of the Vernor’s original soda fountain in its interior. The beverage company hired Gonsowski to paint a three-story mural across the parking lot, on the side of the Sharp Hardware Building, allowing him flexibility in his creation. Drawing on his boyhood adventure through Europe, Gonsowski incorporated what he remembered from the oldest castles he encountered: heavy stone walls, a castle’s keep, Romanesque arched doorways, tall, cylindrical towers capped with conical rooftops. His re-interpretation of the Vernor’s burly, homely gnome was playful and mischievous. The design was envisioned as infinite, and on a bright, blue day, it was meant to transition into the sky.
The Halo Burger building and the mural are one of the most beguiling spots in downtown Flint. Originally, there were a dozen murals, through Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, and Bay City. Ours is the only one remaining of these imaginative works of art.
Five years after Mr. Gonsowski’s death, in April of 1995, tragedy struck Peerless Mattress. An unstable arsonist set the building ablaze. The estimated loss was a total of $1,000,000, and the situation seemed nearly hopeless. The middle section of the building was demolished, and what remained was terribly smoke damaged. The wrecking ball was scheduled to raze the building in September, erasing forever the magical and historic mural. But…a groundswell of citizen support grew, to rescue the landmark. A meeting was organized, headed by the Greater Flint Arts Council (GFAC), and the effort to “Save the Wall” was initiated. Even members of Mr. Gonsowski’s family, the Youngs of Fenton, were in attendance. A plan of action was outlined and two goals were established: raise money to buy the building and then to restore the mural. The Vernors Mural Committee began fund-raising efforts in earnest. The “Save the Gnomes Home!” slogan appeared on signs, shirts and pamphlets. The effort was covered by the Flint Journal. Raising the money was slow, hard work. Grants, corporate gifts, foundation contributions, and personal donations arrived, including $20,000 from the Vernors brand, itself. In total, GFAC and the committee raised over $320,000 to rebuild and renovate the building.
By 1998, the GFAC was able to move in. The restoration however, was not complete….the gnomes were still “homeless”, still tattered and worn. Then, in 2001, in memory of Ruth Mott, the Ruth Mott Foundation gifted $32,000 to the GFAC for the mural. Perhaps Mrs. Mott had been a fan of the troop and their fizzy cocktail...
So, when you see the gnomes next, remember to say hello and have a sip of ginger ale. Maybe you’ll think about that fierce fire and how citizens from across the land came together, for the love of a pharmacist’s magical brew, the memories of a Polish boy, and a bunch of keg-rolling, little men.
by Chene Koppitz
Perhaps no other mural in Flint has the interconnectedness of industry, visual art, and city history as Spirit of Cultural Development, which is part of the Flint Institute of Arts’ permanent collection. Commissioned by the College and Cultural Committee of Sponsors in 1957, artist Edmund Lewandowski drew inspiration from the Buick plant, observing all aspects of how cars were manufactured at one of the world’s largest factories. Lewandowski, a Wisconsian native, studied at the Layton School of Art in Milwaukee before joining the Downtown Gallery in New York, where he exhibited along other notable 20th-century American modernists, like Charles Sheeler and William Zorach. As part of the Works Progress Administration (WPA), he was commissioned to paint murals for a number of public buildings in the United States.
As can be seen in Spirit of Cultural Development, Lewandowski’s work is associated with Precisionism, which the FIA’s website describes as “an artistic movement that focused on the representation of technology, machinery, and industrial subject matter that symbolized the material progress of the nation.” This mosaic mural, along with its companion, Industrialization of Flint, held a prominent place in the museum’s lobby for decades, but it was covered for several years as the building experienced changes and growth spurts. In 2005, the FIA enlarged its footprint yet again with a multi-million dollar renovation. It was during the demolition phase of the renovation that the condition of this historic work, installed in 1958 when the FIA moved to its location in the Flint Cultural Center from downtown Flint, was assessed. Because it was thought that the pieces might be unsalvageable, the murals were slated to be destroyed. When it was discovered that there had been little damage, the museum’s board of trustees unanimously voted to save this piece of Flint history, which itself was
made up of nearly 300,000 pieces of Ventian glass along with cement.
Edmund Lewandowski American, 1914–1998
"Spirit of Cultural Development", 1958 Venetian glass and cement 123 x 161 inches
Flint Institute of Arts, Flint, Michigan. Commissioned by the College and Cultural Committee of Sponsors, 2005.55
© artist or artist's estate
However, moving the murals was a costly and specialized project, one for which the FIA had not planned or budgeted. Thankfully, with the generous support of the Ruth Mott Foundation, which well understood the historical significance, related as it was to the FIA, the city of Flint, and the auto industry, the murals were moved to their current location in the museum’s Art School corridor. The relocation was completed in time for not only the FIA’s 2005 expansion reopening but the sesquicentennial of Flint’s incorporation. Lewandowski, who said that one of his goals with the project was the representation of “the beauty of machinery and the industrial process,” indeed captured what the FIA’s website called “the essential energy and feel” of the city of Flint and its legendary automotive industry.
The story of these murals, which are the first works seen by visitors as they enter the museum’s south entrance, are a testament to so much about Flint: its intersection of culture and industry, its generosity, and its ingenuity. Almost 20 years later, the rediscovered, restored, and relocated murals - that marriage of beautiful, fragile glass with functional, sturdy cement - are a metaphor for the ways in which industry and culture have operated together in Genesee County for most of its history. That marriage of the rough and the refined wasn’t lost on the artist, who noted, “Our machines are as representative of our culture as the temples and sculptures were of the Greeks. They are classically beautiful and represent the material progress our nation has made.”
Officially organized in 1915, the Genesee County Historical Society’s membership has included such local luminaries as Charles Stewart Mott, J. Dallas Dort, and William C. “Billy” Durant. Over the last century, our countless activities have included the donation of the foundational artifacts and images for the Sloan Museum and the first $1000 for Crossroads Village. We raised funds and oversaw the restoration of the Durant-Dort Carriage Company Historic Landmark, and were the force behind Flint’s well-loved Arches, which we still maintain today. Our history is relevant to who we are as a community, and the GCHS is keeping our citizens connected to their history and their roots. Besides supporting something
By Gary L. Fisher
The storied history of Flint’s famed athletic tradition is missing a complete chapter on one of the best to ever play the game of baseball. It’s the story of Dave ‘Wahoo’ Hoskins, without question one of the greatest baseball players that no one has ever heard of. Sure, he’s enshrined in the Greater Flint Sports Hall of Fame, as he should be. But even that drew little interest beyond the normal chatter of the event, held in 1983.
His story is opaque for a lot of reasons, the least of which is that it starts out with confusion. Hoskins told folks that he was born in Mississippi, in 1925, and came to Flint, in 1936, where he started playing Flint City League games, almost immediately. That would be beyond incredible, especially given the level of talent in the Flint City Leagues, at the time. For an 11-year-old to play? Didn’t make sense. He must have played high school ball, right? However, a scouring of Flint Central and Flint Northern baseball rosters didn’t reveal him.
Then the truth came out. A search of old census reports showed that Hoskins was, indeed, born in Mississippi—but in 1917. He attended high school at G.H. Jones Industrial School in Highlandale, Mississippi. Undoubtedly, Hoskins fibbed about his age to help his baseball career, where youth has always been at a premium. Regardless of the reason, the age switch stuck, and in those days, no one bothered to check, or really could have, even if they wanted to.
Whether he played for the school team there, or not, is still
unknown, but his strict father had definitely let him start playing baseball after completing his chores, according to Dave’s brother, Bill ‘Doc’ Hoskins. When he arrived in Flint, in ’36, 19-year-old Hoskins was certainly ready for the Flint City League competition. In fact, he dominated the league for four years, hitting .438, .438, .350, and .412, while patrolling Flint outfields.
Playing in the era of racial discrimination and Jim Crow prevented him from making a leap to the Major League, or MLB minor league systems. Jackie Robinson’s breaking of the color barrier was still a World War and seven years away. But the league that was available to him was just as good from a competition and talent perspective. The Negro Leagues housed some of the greatest talent in the world, and the best team in that league was interested in signing Hoskins. In 1944, at 27-years-old, Hoskins signed with the Homestead Grays.
The team featured a ‘Murderers Row’ comparable to the New York Yankees famed lineup of the same name (Earle Combs, Mark Koenig, Babe Ruth, Lou Gherig, Bob Meusel, and Tony Lazzeri). For the Grays that line up was: Sam Bankhead, Jerry Benjamin, James “Cool Papa” Bell, Buck Leonard, Josh Gibson, and Flintstone, Dave Hoskins. No one believed there was much difference between the two units. In fact, Gibson is arguably the greatest catcher in all of baseball history, frequently compared to Ruth as a hitter. Gehrig’s equivalent is Leonard. And Hoskins? His MLB comp was none less than Stan ‘The Man’ Musial. Pretty good company.
Satchel Paige told Detroit Tiger legend, Hank Greenberg, then the CONTINUED ON PAGE 39
By Colleen A. Marquis
J. Bradford Pengelly was an author, musician, orator, activist, spiritual leader, businessman, civic leader, poet, and city planner with an incredible sense of humor and human warmth which people found charming and endearing.The man seemed inexhaustible. After Pengelly became the Rector at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in September 1913, his name appeared almost daily in the Flint Journal in announcements for lectures or speaking engagements, involvement with various societies and bible study groups, as well as the funeral, wedding, and baptismal announcements that came along with his responsibilities. Pengelly helped to build St. Paul’s congregation into the third-largest Episcopal congregation in the state, and guided the construction of new church spaces, chapels, and buildings. A brief biography written about Pengelly put his contributions to St. Paul’s this way,
stuck in camps, waiting to return from France. When he returned to Flint in 1920, he lectured and preached on the dangers of antisemitism and fascism, recognizing the seeds of WWII long before most.
While running for congressional representative of the 6th district of Michigan in 1920, he was accused of being a radical labor organizer. He denied the accusation, though it likely cost him the election. It was probably for the best as history shows that Pengelly was not only extremely sympathetic to organized labor, he materially supported it. As early as 1914, Pengelly was involved in the Labor Movement in Flint, when he addressed the Typesetters Union regarding worker’s compensation laws and appeals board.
“... it is impossible to enter details of the great services rendered by Mr. Pengelly in vitalizing and expanding the influence and work of this parish, along both spiritual and material lines. It may be said, however, that he brought about a wonderful improvement in the church property and made St. Paul's a model edifice in both its fine Gothic architecture and its beautiful interior appointments. During his rectorship the new parish house was erected, the FiveSisters Chapel built, St. Paul's church remodeled and St. Andrew's Mission built.”
Though Pengelly had spent the previous years as a missionary in the lumber camps of Northern Ontario, he leaped into Flint society. He was a member of Toastmasters along with J. Dallas Dort and other prominent Flint businessmen and hosted a Shakespeare Appreciation Society.
Reverend Pengelly ministered to the wealthy and powerful in Flint, but his passions, very much in the tradition of the Episcopal Church, were social issues and justice. In 1915, he supported the cause of Irish Independence and argued against the death penalty in a public debate against professional lawyers. Following WWI, he traveled to France to serve with the YMCA in supporting relief efforts for American soldiers
In 1923, Pengelly left his position at St. Paul’s to pursue a successful business career. He invested in real estate and became the president of PengellyAtwood and Pengelly Realty. He was one of the founding partners in the Capitol Building Co. and spoke at the theater’s opening night celebration as its director. It was during this time that he purchased a massive corner property downtown on 3rd Street and Harrison. Where the low building of the Ennis Center for Children stands today once stood a grand, four-floor, corner office building. Originally belonging to Paterson Motors, Pengelly rented offices in the building to the Socialist Party of America, the Proletariat Party, and the Communist party, as well as lawyers and other professionals. He was a city commissioner until November of 1933 when he was accused of bribery. The accusations resulted in his recall, but no verdict due to a hung jury. The case was eventually moved to Grand Rapids and Pengelly was found not guilty, but he suffered a nervous breakdown in the process. It appears that the accusations were politically motivated in an effort to discredit Pengelly and the labor movement.
Pengelly retired with his wife back to their native Canada sometime in the 1950s, his last Flint City Directory entry was 1954 when he lived on Avon St. He died on October 16th, 1973 at the age of 92 in Coquitlam, B.C. Canada.
By the afternoon of the 29th, Frank Montague added up The League’s losses, estimating that they owed the bank about 3.8 million (58 million in 2021 dollars). He had no choice but to go to see Grant Brown. Together they summoned the rest of The League to their usual positions in the board room where the plot had been hatched and carried out over so many latenight League meetings. One by one they confessed, until Brown’s son, Robert, entered the room. “You, too Robert?” Brown asked. Head hung, tears flowing, the young man confessed. Finally, John de Camp, Brown Sr.’s right hand man arrived. The stone-faced Bank chief stared a hole through him. As events would unfold, it’s highly likely that Browns reaction may have been an act.
In a final plot twist, Grant Brown would also be charged with embezzlement and falsification of a bank statement. His involvement as a member of the League remains unclear. Without question he was, at a bare minimum, asleep at the wheel.
Brown picked up a phone to call Charles Stewart Mott at the General Motors Building, in Detroit. After explaining the situation, Mott said “Mr. Brown, I’ll be with you in no time.”
Mott headed to Flint to be at the bank the next morning, meeting with the League at 5:00 am in the boardroom, where they had spent the night. After demanding each man’s resignation, he placed a call to Genesee County Prosecutor Charles Beagle. There remains some controversy as to what transpired in that call. Some say Mott asked Beagle not to prosecute, to avoid the bad publicity that would result. According to The Day The Bubble Burst, authors Max Morgan- Witts and Gordon Thomas claim that Beagle’s son John believed that his father refused to bend to this request. Conversely, Mott’s son, Harding, maintained that his father did not request such an intervention.
Regardless of what was to come, Mott knew he had to act quickly to quell any panic, and in a dramatic move straight out of a Hollywood scene, Mott lined up three armored cars, then withdrew the modernday equivalent of 58 million from his own personal bank account, in Detroit. Then, leading the motorcade from Detroit to Flint, he took the exact amount of stolen investor assets and physically replaced them at the bank. There was no Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation protection in those days. Mott’s actions were heroic in the extreme. He did so with no written agreements as to how, or even if, he would be remunerated.
Meanwhile, Prosecutor Beagle took his time preparing his cases, waiting to make any arrests. Pressure mounted for him to move on the perpetrators. Beagle explained the delay saying, “It has been found advisable to prepare cases against the men that will not involve the testimony of any of the others. With a dozen men gone from the employ of the bank, it has meant extensive work to prepare such cases.” In the end, he promised that “They will be tried on cases
arising out of other transactions until I get a jury that will convict or until they are acquitted on all counts.” The bottom line is that it was a very complicated case involving complex and often opaque transactions. Beagle needed some time, and assistance to prepare his case.
On November 16, 1929, warrants were issued and arrests made. Pleading guilty were Graham, Montague, Pollock, Christiansen, Runyon, Kelly, Barron, and Plumb. Choosing to stand trial were Robert Brown, McDonald, Thompson, Woodhouse, and McGregor.
By January of 1930 the verdicts were in. DeCamp was sentenced to 10 to 20 years, Graham, Pollock, Kelly, and Runyon received 5-20 years. Christensen got 7 to 20, Montague received a 3.5 to 20 years, while McDonald, Brown Jr. and Plumb got six months to 20 years.
An editorial in “Flint Saturday Night” opined:
“Ali Baba and his forty thieves were the mildest sort of lambs as compared with the contemptible dirty dozen who pilfered and robbed this bank. Grant J. Brown was its president. A short time ago, we praised him as a wizard of finance. We have no reason to change our mind. A wizard he surely was--either a fool or a knave to have permitted such a state of affairs in his bank for a period of two years. A wizard in that he headed an institution with the greatest amalgamation of thieves that the country has ever known.”
Flint, and the nation was soon immersed deeply into the Great Depression, a decade of deprivation that only ended with the outbreak of World War 2. In the intervening years, the Sit-Down Strike in Flint established the United Auto Workers as a major power. General Motors came out of both the Depression and the war on top of the manufacturing world, unopposed, as America was the only country on the globe with an intact manufacturing structure. Those two outcomes propelled Flint to a surge of prosperity and growth that led to the city topping 200,000 residents, and having the highest per capita income in America for many years to come. The party lasted for nearly 40 years after the war. With all of Flint’s booms and busts, The League of Gentlemen was completely forgotten. Despite this, it remains one of the most prolific American bank heists of all time.
Postscript
In prison the League of Gentlemen were allowed adjoining cells. In a scenario ripped right out of The Shawshank Redemption they worked together to straighten out the prisons financial records. Later 7 of them returned to Flint to work until retirement – in local banks.
Frank Montague was interviewed in his trailer living outside of Flint in 1978 and maintained that he was “exploited by the others.”
For more visit: geneseehistory.org/gentlemen
The great Louis Chevrolet sitting behind the wheel of his 1909 Buick roadster, congratulated by another early racing legend Ralph de Palma after driving to victory at the Old Timers Race at Roosevelt Raceway on Long Island New York in 1936. He averaged 28 miles per hour around the four mile course. Chevrolet was a world class racer, and at one point the fastest human on four wheels.
After General Motors founder Billy Durant was ousted from GM by bankers in 1909, he came back to Flint and told Chevrolet “Louie, I need a car to take GM back from the bankers.” He set Chevrolet up in a secret shop on Grand River Blvd. in Detroit, away from prying eyes in Flint, to design Billy’s comeback car.
The car Chevrolet came up with was too big and pricey, but Durant massaged the design until he got what he wanted. Naming the car and company after the race car driver, he used it as leverage to pull off the greatest boardroom coup in American business history. The Chevrolet company purchased General Motors outright, and Durant stepped back in to control. Meanwhile, he and Louis soon parted ways, worlds apart on everything from car design to what to smoke (Durant preferred cigars, Chevrolet cigarettes).
Theyare the most precious and most fragile victims in our community. The children that walk through the doors of Voices for Children have experienced the worse reality anyone could imagine. These are our youngest victims and Voices for Children is their safe haven
Providing a safe place for abused children to tell their stories is what Voices for Children Advocacy Center (formerly Weiss Child Advocacy Center) does every single day. They are there offering a friendly environment, with a single certified trained staff that can compassionately listen, examine, and ask all the necessary questions to start the road to healing for these children that have been victims of sexual and/ or physical abuse.
Last year over 600 new children walked through their doors.
Children who arrive at Voices for Children often do so with just the clothes on their backs and nothing more.
History is being made as you read these words. Somewhere, right now, there are people, across the world, who are changing the status quo, leaving their mark, and making new history. In every issue, Genesee County Historical Society would like to recognize those exceptional movers and shakers who we are proud to call our own.
You can find interviews with these amazing people on www.flintchronicles.com
The 1926 Paris Art Exhibition was inspiration for her Art Deco design, with influences from Egyptian artifacts and Native American designs. Carved in limestone on the First Street side of the building is a caduceus, a winged staff with two serpents coiled around it, symbolizing authority and commerce. Imported Italian and Austrian Travertine marble, trimmed with black Belgian marble inlaid with brass designs were used for the floor, while doors, paneling and the original banking partitions were of African mahogany. Geometric patterns can still be found throughout the building. The building cost 2 million to build in 1929— 30.5 million in 2021 dollars.
In 1955, Michigan National Bank remodeled the lobby, installing escalators in the stairway leading to the second floor. As the primary tenant, it took over the majority of the first floor offices. By 1965 the bank had moved most of its operations into a new building next door to the south, escaping heavy fire damage to their floor, in April of 1978.
From 1930 to 1951, WFBE radio station had its studio’s on the 16th floor. The transmitter towers on the roof were used until moved to a Bristol Road location in 1946. Mr. Mott, as President of his Foundation, established offices in a fifth floor area, then spreading operations to other parts of the building.
Today, she remains the Grande Dame
General Manager of the Cleveland Indians, “You better sign this fella. He can hit. I know, because I couldn’t get him out!” The thing about his hitting was that he was an equally good pitcher. A truly rare
combination shared by only a few at the professional level, most notably Babe Ruth. So, it was that Hoskins turned to Paige for advice, ultimately choosing to become a toptier, professional pitcher, instead of hitter. “I was tired of pitchers throwing at me and made up my mind to throw at other guys”, Hoskins said, by way of explaining his decision.
Hoskins became a Minor League version of Jackie Robinson, becoming the first black player to compete in the Southern League, and the Texas League. He endured more than his share of catcalls, and even death threats, as he integrated the minors. But he persevered with class and grace, and enough talent to make the Big Leagues.
He went on to join the Cleveland Indians, in 1953, becoming a starting pitcher on a staff that included Hall of Famer, and one of the top ten greatest pitchers in baseball history, “Rapid” Bob Feller, and fellow Hall of Famers, Early Wynn, and
of Flint. The Mott Foundation occupies more than half of the space, with attorneys, financial advisors, and various other small businesses making up the rest of the tenants. For first time visitors, it’s a treat to see the amazing architecture, while soaking up her history.
My office has been in the building for six years, and I never fail to point out to first time guests, from my windows, the places where the American Century, The Arsenal of Democracy, and the American middle-class found their genesis. You can see them all from my 7th floor view.
As for her, the building? She has seen it all. If that old limestone could only talk.
Bob Lemon. That year, the Indians won the pennant, and Hoskins was on the World Series team of ‘54. The Indians were swept by the Giants in the series, ending the Major League run for Hoskins, as well. That Tribe staff was one of the best ever, leaving little room for a 36-year-old player. He continued playing minor league ball.
Hoskins story is one that could have been quite different. Had he been allowed to play in the Majors at a younger age, or come along at a time when more players had college baseball as an option, or a longer minor league development period, it’s quite likely he would have been known as a Hall of Famer, Major Leaguer, or one of the best Negro Leaguers ever. Either way might have resulted in a plaque in Cooperstown.
Hoskins used his baseball earnings to buy a farm outside of Flint, and a cab company. He also worked at General Motors after returning to Flint. He loved the city, and always wanted to come home to it after his playing days were finished.
Dave died of a heart attack in 1970, at the age of 53. Gone too soon, and forgotten in a city of athletic superstars, for far too long. But Dave Hoskins was one of the greatest baseball players in our county’s history. In truth, his skills are notable in all of baseball history. That’s a fact worth remembering, and so is Dave Hoskins.
