Word on the Street

StraightTalk: Fred Stonehouse

Brian Cabell probes the mind and the life of 70-year-old historian and writer Fred Stonehouse, who also happens to be Marquette’s mayor.

BC: You’re not a native Michigander, right?

FS: Right. I was brought up in New Jersey, we had a house down at the seashore. Seaside Park. My mother, father, two brothers and a sister. With the beach right there, we were always doing water-based activities–swimming, fishing, diving, chasing pirate gold, looking for treasure and shipwrecks. We were on a barrier island off the New Jersey coast–it was just like North Carolina’s Outer Banks, just without the publicity. It was really a wonderful place.

BC: How would you describe yourself as a boy?

FS: I guess I’d say “average.” I probably tended more toward the nerdish side, I read a lot. Not athletic at all.

BC: What kind of books did you read?

FS: I just remember reading early on. I had an uncle who always had a book in his hands, and he’d come by for dinner and he always brought books for us kids. For me it was mostly history and biographies. I also remember reading Tom Swift.

BC: So you spent your high school years in New Jersey, as well?

FS: Yes, and then I came out to Northern to go to college. I had a high school chum who was a year ahead of me, and he discovered Northern and he enjoyed it. This was a period in 1966 when all the colleges on the East Coast were overwhelmed with students–it was the beginning of the Baby Boom–and the schools couldn’t handle the number of applicants, but Northern had vacancies and I was able to take one of them.

Stonehouse has loved Marquette since his days at NMU.

BC: Had you ever been to Marquette?

FS: I had never been here, never been to Michigan, never been to the Upper Peninsula, never had seen more than ten inches of snow at a time so it was a religious experience to go through an Upper Peninsula winter. I can tell you by mid-winter I had filled out my application for the University of Miami. (Cabell laughs) Seriously. By springtime, though, I had made friends, I had acclimated, and I realized what a special place this was.

BC: What did you study at Northern?

FS: I graduated with a major in political science and broadcast speech as a minor.

BC: And you intended to do what?

FS: I didn’t know. I was one of those kids who goes through school who figures he’s going to do something but didn’t quite know what. I accumulated a teaching degree along the way, but then I realized that was the last thing I wanted to do. There was a great world out there to see and I wanted to see it. This was 1970 so I joined the Army. That was after I attempted to join the Air Force, but I couldn’t get in because I had a bad eye. I failed my final Class A flight physical so that went down. The Navy was not accepting applicants at that point. So that led me to the Army.

BC: That was the Vietnam era. You were hoping to go to Vietnam?

FS: That was not my intention on enlisting. There was a a program that allowed you a shot at Officer Candidate School. You went through basic training, and advanced training, and you hung around for a while until a slot opened in an OCS program. And that’s what happened. I graduated OCS and became commissioned as a signal officer. After a while, I started badgering them to send me to Vietnam because I wanted to see it. I wanted to understand what was going on. And I did end up with a Vietnam assignment early in my career.

BC: When was that?

FS: This was 1972 when we were winding down. All of the heavy work had been done. They were shooting at us once in a while but it wasn’t like it was in 1966 or 1967.

BC: What was your impression when you got there?

FS: My impression was one of fascination, more than anything else, because I was doing and seeing things that you wouldn’t see anywhere else. So we land there, get on a bus which was covered with barbed wire to keep the RPG’s from coming in, we get all our basic uniform stuff, everything but a weapon, and I’m sitting around in a room that was pretty much empty and wondering, “What do I do now?” And I knew the answer to that, and that was, get a beer. So I wandered out to the front gate where there was a small Vietnamese guard, and he pointed to one of those three-wheeled jitneys, and I gave the driver a dime. He took me a few hundred yards away to a building that was covered in sand bags. I opened the door and there is a gentleman in a full tux. It’s about eleven in the morning. He says, “Sir, may I help you?” I said I was looking for the Officers Club and he said I had found it. He asked if I was a club member. I said no. Okay, over here, you’ll have to join. Two dollars. So I pay. It was this palatial building and I hear this “oom-pah-pah” music. It’s October. I walk down the hall and there’s this big room, an “oom-pah-pah” band on the stage, everybody’s on the tables, they’re singing, they’ve got the big beer steins, they’ve got bartenders that the Air Force has flown in from Germany. So I had sauerkraut, schnitzel and sausage, and then went home, and said, “This is not a bad war.”

BC: You say it was toward the end of the war. Did you ever come under fire?

FS: An ambient rocket once in a while, that was it. I was never in combat as you would traditionally think. I came home in ’73 when my tour was finished.

BC: And then you stayed in the Army?

FS: I stayed for 27 years. I spent time in Germany, in Italy, in Turkey, in Honduras.

BC: So you were fulfilling your desire to see the world.

FS: Yeah, I saw the world, I went all over the place. I did things I never thought I’d do.

BC: Did you love your time in the Army?

FS: I’d do it again tomorrow. But saying that, you also get worn out. At some point, you just say, “I’m done.”

BC: For those of us who’ve never served in the military, what are we missing?

FS: (He pauses) Many things. But I think the thing that most people are missing is the opportunity to “mix”–for want of a better word–with what America is. When I went through Basic and I went through Advanced Training, we had the opportunity to meet folks from all around this country, all social and economic backgrounds, all in the same pot together. That was really a great opportunity to understand other people–about their motivations, about who they are. We were all Americans, all together, and all in this pot. I think by not serving in the military, you don’t have that opportunity.

BC: What rank did you retire at?

FS: I retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1997.

BC: And at that point, you chose to come back to Marquette?

FS: I don’t think I ever left. Once you got here and you went through that winter, this was where you were going to be. You had made friends, you began to really love and understand the area, you found people that were absolutely fantastic. The really great attribute of Marquette is the people.

BC: So even though you’d been all over the world for the previous 27 years, you still regarded Marquette–

FS: I still regarded Marquette as my home. Jersey wasn’t home. But here it was special. I mean was a a college kid when I first arrived, I’m in town, I’ve got a check drawn on a bank in New Jersey, this was an era when you didn’t have a picture on your driver’s license, and I went into the Union First National Bank on Third Street, and they cashed the check. And there was no question. Nobody would do that! But they did. And that to me spoke volumes that you were welcome here.

BC: So you came back in ’97–

FS: Well, I should add that in the meantime I had married my wife in 1980. She’s from Negaunee. So we both had that connection. And I had always kept up with Northern, I had always kept up with friends in Marquette, I’d been up here visiting, I was working with the National Guard units here, so I was always here even though I may not have actually been here. I’m not a Yooper but I’m galvanized.

BC: So you and your wife come back to Marquette in ’97, you’re retired military, you’ve got a pension…Then what?

FS: Well, taught a little bit at Northern, I still do–teaching history. I still do a lot of writing and consulting. I was doing a lot of writing even before I left active duty. My wife works as the accountant for Marquette Township. She’s still doing that. The overwhelming thing is you are where you want to be doing what you want to with people you want to be with.

Stonehouse has written more than 30 books.

BC: So above all, what is about Marquette that’s so appealing and so important to you?

FS: It’s the people. Every town says, “Come visit us. We’re a friendly place.” But I think there’s a spirit of being an entrepreneur here that’s different from other places. There’s a spirit of people who truly want to be here—they don’t feel trapped here. I know from speaking with folks in other towns, that’s their thought process–they’re trapped, they can’t leave. Marquette’s been really fortunate in having the university which produces a huge diversity of people and produces a vibe of students who are in the town that plays very well. Then we have the hospital and we get out of that professional medical practice and educational uplift in the community. And then we got the big lake out there, a wonderful natural environment. You put all those things together, and you have to say, “This is a good place.” We’re not perfect, we’re not Pleasantville, but this is a good place.

BC: You clearly still have an interest in history, and anything maritime. Where did that come from?

FS: That came from childhood. That came from New Jersey, the Jersey shore. That’s always fascinated me.

BC: Do you spend much time out on the sea, on the lake?

FS: I used to hold a captain’s license but I gave that up in August. I just got too old.

Stonehouse sailing into Marquette on one of the Tall Ships.

BC: And why the interest in history?

FS: If you don’t know who you were, then you don’t know who you are, and you have no idea where you’re going.

BC: You’ve gotten involved in local politics. When did that start?

FS: I guess it was shortly after I arrived in Marquette, probably in ’98, and that was being a member of the harbor committee–I did that for a long time, and I ended up chairing a number of committees on various things. I have this very strong belief that you should try to move the city forward. I hate politics and I hate being a political functionary, that’s not what I’m trying to do. But I want to keep the city progressive, keep it growing, and by “growing,” I don’t mean getting bigger. I mean, getting better. I feel very strongly that every citizen has the responsibility to help push the wagon–the wagon of Marquette. And I feel that I’m helping to push it forward.

Stonehouse was elected mayor by his fellow commissioners last year.

BC: When did you get involved in electoral politics?

FS: I gotta think. I believe it was 2008. I’ve been a city commission for six years, then I was off–by charter we have to be off for two years, then two more years. (He’s now mayor).

BC: If there’s a negative to what’s happening in Marquette these days, what would it be?

FS: I think what always worries me is people making decisions when they don’t have all the information. In other words, the rise of social media has given rise to rumors and fake news. Somebody will throw something out, and automatically everybody jumps on it as being true. And that creates a lot of heartburn and heartbreak and angst in the city. That becomes a significant problem.

BC: What about the physical development of the city? That’s been changing. Does that concern you?

FS: I think we’re doing it properly. You always have to balance that with reality. The city of Marquette is largely dependent on property taxes for its income. Whether it’s a business or a private home, that’s what’s paying the bills of the city. Unlike some cities downstate that have a big GM factory that’s turning over a pile of money, we don’t have that. And as of April, our biggest taxpayer (the Presque Isle Power Plant) is going away. So when you look at development, it’s gotta be done with the idea that, “Okay, guys, we’ve gotta pay for the good things we like,” and if that means development, that’s the cost we have to pay. That said, we’re not Traverse City, we’re never going to be Traverse City. We haven’t sold the lakeshore. In fact we have added to it significantly. If you look at the information that the county puts out, the bulk of all the public property on Lake Superior is in the city of Marquette. The rest of the county has virtually nothing. Would I rather that the development not be on the lake, yeah, I’d rather there be nothing but park there, but the reality is that nearly sixty percent of the land in Marquette is tax-free. We can’t survive like that.

BC: Let’s get back to you. What’s the perfect day for Fred Stonehouse?

FS: Perfect day is get up in the morning, have a cup of coffee, sit down at the computer and do another chapter. I’m working on something, I’ve always got a couple books in the balance.

BC: How many books have you written?

FS: Somewhere upwards of thirty. They’re all history or maritime in some fashion. Most of them dealing with the Great Lakes, a few on the Eastern seaboard.

BC: What else do you do?

FS: My wife and I enjoy getting out a couple times a week and going to the great restaurants in town The food opportunities in Marquette are just terrific. That’s been fun. We enjoy traveling. And I finally went skiing recently for the first time in six years–I have a couple of fake knees and I was concerned with that but I finally decided I wasnt getting any younger, let’s give it a shot. And it worked out fine.

BC: Final question. In the great beyond, after we’re gone, what’s out there?

FS: (He pauses for ten seconds) I am a Christian so I will have to say I believe in the after life.

BC: Thanks , Fred.

A Disease with No Name

YOU LOOK AT him and you see a handsome nine-year-old boy. A wave of brown hair swept across his forehead, a shy smile, a gentle voice.

But there’s more to Will Chittle of Negaunee than that. Much more.

His mother Janice, who works out of her home, will tell you about him.

“It was a normal birth but then he wasn’t eating and he was crying all the time,” she says, “and his pylorus (the connection between the stomach and intestine) was closed up. They had to open it up but he didn’t do well with the surgery, he stopped breathing because he had a restricted airway…and that’s when it all started.”

What’s followed has been nine years of frequent hospital visits, more than twenty procedures, three incidents that brought him near death, countless blood draws, hours upon hours of research and study, but ultimately no satisfying answers.

The Chittle family has heard all the possible names for Will’s chronic illness over the years–an auto-immune disease, neuromuscular problems, autonomic neuropathy, mitochondrial disease, and others, but they sometimes just seem like words. Educated guesses about a strange, mystifying, complicated disease.

“They think they’ve figured out what’s wrong with him,” Janice explains, “but we still don’t have a name for it. We just know his symptoms.”

Janice and Will Chittle at home in Negaunee.

“My head hurts,” Will tells you. “I get migraines. And right now I have pain in my feet. It hurts to walk.”

He frequently has to use a wheelchair when he attends school at Lakeview Elementary.

Truth be told, he has pain throughout his body much of the time. Two tubes inserted into his body are constant companions.

Ask him what he’d like above all, and he takes a moment to think about it, then says, quietly, “I’d like to fit in. Just fit in with other people and not feel different. Sometimes kids make fun of me.”

“He gets sad sometimes,” his father Matt, who’s a sales representative, says. “He’s gone from school so much and when he comes back, the other kids have moved on. And at the beginning of the school year, the kids are told to be careful with Will, so then they don’t want to play with him. They don’t want to include him in the rough-housing or anything.”

There are few things worse for a nine-year-old boy than to not be accepted as one of the guys.

And for parents, there’s probably nothing worse than seeing your child wracked with pain…and sad.

Matt and Janice, by the way, are raising two other sons–seven-year-old Henry and ten-month-old Theodore. Both, thankfully, have no serious medical problems.

Matt Chittle with Will and Henry. Baby Theodore is upstairs sleeping.

But there are other burdens for the Chittles. The medical debt, now $75,000. The constant travel to and from hospitals. The confusion and inconsistency with Medicaid coverage and with Social Security disability insurance. The endless phone calls to doctors, hospitals, and politicians pleading for guidance and help.

“For all parents of special needs children,” Janice says, “it’d be nice if we could just take care of our child and not have to worry about the bureaucracy.” She pauses for a moment. “Sometimes I’ve had breakdowns…”

Their community at Northiron Church helps–sometimes taking care of the Chittles’ two other boys, once remodeling their bathroom to make it handicapped-accessible, always being there to lend a helpful hand and sympathetic ear.

“I can call my pastor’s wife at two in the morning if I’m bawling,” Janice says, “and she’s there for me. All the women are supportive.”

That eases the burden.

And there’s something else that gives her and the entire Chittle family hope. Medical advances, specifically genetic testing. If doctors could identify the gene in Will’s body that is malfunctioning, they might, at the very least, be able to ease his pain and give him something close to a normal life.

That’s all he wants right now: To not hurt so much and to fit in with the other kids.

Doesn’t seem like too much to ask.

From the Anchor Desk to the Pulpit

SHE STILL HAS that trademark smile, that ready laugh, that persistently upbeat attitude.

But Vicky Prewitt–formerly Vicky Crystal on TV6–has traded in her anchor’s chair for a place on the pulpit, and her wire copy for the Bible.

She’s now Pastor Vicky at Christ United Methodist Church in Crystal Falls and Grace United Methodist Church in Amasa. She left TV eight months ago.

“It wasn’t a sudden thing,” she says. “I had been considering changing my life over the last few years. I just had the feeling that I wasn’t doing anything with my life. There were problems in the world and I was just reporting on them. I wanted to do something more.”

She’s had to adjust after spending thirty years in TV and radio, but it’s been a pleasant adjustment. No more alarm clocks sounding in the dead of night. No more dark, snowy drives to the TV station. No breaking news that just has to get on the air immediately.

“My only deadline is Sunday morning at worship,” she explains. She conducts services at both churches.

But other than that, unless there’s a crisis with someone in her congregations, her life moves at a slower, more relaxed pace. She has office hours in the morning where she prepares her sermon, hymns and prayers, and meets with anyone who wants to come in. Then she makes visitations in the afternoon–to homes, hospitals, anywhere that someone needs her.

Both churches have small congregations but they’re growing.

“Attendance always ebbs and flows but the two churches were in a rough spot,” Pastor Vicky says. “There was concern about the future for them but now we’re seeing a nice rebound. I’d say attendance has doubled, even tripled at times in the last few months.”

A “grief group” that meets every two weeks regularly draws six to twelve participants, and vacation Bible school recently attracted about two dozen children. That’s pretty impressive for a tiny church in a small town.

Not that Vicky takes credit for the progress, not at all. “I believe the church belongs to the people,” she says. “We need to listen to what they think, what they want. It should not be about what the pastor wants. I need to listen, and I’m still getting to know the people here.”

She lives in the church’s parsonage in Crystal Falls. Out her back window, while she’s reading, planning a sermon, or preparing her meals, she can watch birds feeding and deer wandering about in the snow. It’s calming.

“I didn’t realize how stressed I was before,” she says. “Now I’m learning to breathe. I’m more in tune with God.”

Vicky receiving gifts after completing requirements for her license to preach.

She doesn’t watch nearly as much news on TV as she used to, but she goes online more to follow developments across the U.P. and the world.

So does she miss her former profession at all? “Not the job so much, but I do miss the people I worked with,” she says. “Fortunately, I’m able to stay in touch with them through Facebook, and I love seeing all the new, young faces at TV6.”

As for the best moments in her new job? She doesn’t hesitate.

“Baptism, communion,” she tells you, her voice packed with emotion. “It touches me in a special way. It’s always been special to me, but now that I’m the one inviting people to God’s table, it’s different. It’s uplifting. It’s somber and it’s euphoric.”

She’s fifty-five years old. Seems a little late in life to have made such a drastic change.

But no, it feels exactly right for this former TV journalist.

“If I had had this feeling, and I never acted on it, it wouldn’t have been right,” she says. “I’ve been having conversations with God, he has guided me along the way, and I’m absolutely at ease with everything I’ve done. Now I’m excited to see what lies ahead for me.”

You got news? Email me at briancabell@gmail.com

Discovering New Perspectives

TEDX RETURNS TO Marquette on Saturday. Specifically, the Forest Roberts Theater.

And this year, unlike last year, everyone in the community is welcome.

“Last year was frustrating,” Allison Opheim, the event chairperson. “We were limited in seating and it was only for students. A lot of community members told us they wanted to be part of it.”

Last year’s venue at Jamrich Hall seated only 100 students. This year, TEDx will be held at Forest Roberts with a capacity of 500.

That’s 200 seats for NMU students who’ll get in free, and the remaining 300 for the community. Ticket price: $45.

NMU pays for the bulk of the costs, with Travel Marquette and private donors also helping out.

Now, what about the event itself? They’re calling it “Diving Deeper.” Thirteen speakers who’ve spent a good portion of their lives pursuing unique interests and passions.

There’s entrepreneur Bugsy Sailor on the art of skipping stones.

Alex Palzewicz making the case for local food.

Kyle Miron on the tools for fighting cancer.

Musician and songwriter Jerry Mills on living beyond the mind’s control.

Keith Glendon on living with joy, meaning and purpose–what he calls “bigness.”

And others.

Don’t expect lectures. Don’t expect to hear explanations of heavy academic research. Expect instead to have your mind and heart opened up by creative, thoughtful people. Expect also to be entertained.

Local folks giving you new perspectives on your life here in the U.P.

Not a bad way to spend a chilly, late winter’s day.

GM Takes Honest Look at Marquette Mountain

IT’S BEEN A busy first few weeks for Marquette Mountain’s new general manager Andrew Farron.

Big races, big crowds, and some changes after the abrupt departure of former GM Frank Malette.

First, (and not necessarily in importance), Jim and Ray, the popular local singing duo, are back playing at the T-Bar (the name Carp River Saloon was discarded). Farron has Jim and Ray playing every other Thursday and Sunday. And there’s a reason for that.

“We compared the weeks when they play and when they don’t, and frankly it’s a wash financially,” Farron says. Meaning they’re selling more food and drink when the duo plays, but that increase is offset by what Marquette Mountain has to pay them.

Jim and Ray have been local favorites for years.

For the time being, they’ll continue playing, Farron says, because that’s what local skiers and snowboarders said they wanted.

Second–and this has more to do with mindset than anything–they’re not going to have the T-Bar competing with the restaurants downtown.

“We’re not a five star restaurant,” Farron says. “We’re not gonna pretend we’re something we’re not. We’re a place of hang out after you ski, have something to eat and drink, and have a little fun. You want fine dining? There’s great restaurants downtown.”

And third, what about turning the mountain into a mountain bikers’ destination after the snow melts?

Yes, they are planning to use one of the lifts (Rocket) for biking this summer on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and they’ll how see it goes. If it’s popular, it could be expanded. If not, well….

Farron and his wife moved to Marquette less than two years ago.

“Our first priority is getting the snowplowing and electrical work done on the mountain this summer,” Farron emphasizes. “Everything else is secondary. We don’t want to get caught like we did last fall with the work not being done.”

Anyone who’s witnessed the repeated delays and breakdowns with the lifts this season will likely appreciate his perspective.

Farron’s young, he ‘s inexperienced, he’s brand new on the job, but so far he’s seems to be doing and saying all the right things.