Back on the road again, my first Sunday drive through our region takes me through Brodhead. Now I may be a newcomer to this town, but one thing is immediately clear: I could never live here.
Don't get me wrong, this town is lovely. It has the Sugar River, it has that great tree that can never be cut down because it marks the middle point between Lake Michigan and the Mississippi River, and it has plenty of nice folks. It's just that ... well ... my head is too big.
No, we're not talking ego (although some would beg to differ). We're talking actual head size. Yes, I have a broad head, so how can I reside in a place called Brodhead?
Imagine the head games people would play.
How do I know this? No, my noggin wasn't measured and no, it did not get stuck while attempting to put on a sweater. I know this because on the last family trip, my 15-year-old daughter Aly broke the news.
"Dad," she said, peering up at me with a smarmy grin, "you don't have a forehead. You have a five-head."
Ah yes, words out of the mouths of babes.
Needless to say, I no longer use my rear-view mirror when driving.
But this got me thinking about Brodhead as I approached it. How on earth did this town get its name? Could it be named after a guy who sported a giant melon?
I immediately sped over the tracks in town and headed home to Monroe do the research. Those very tracks, I'd discover, were my answer.
Anyway, I thought I'd conduct an experiment on the folks of Brodhead, to see if they were really Brodhead-worthy. I wanted to tap their noggins.
Tell me, residents of Brodhead, how did your town get its name?
A call into Payne's Pub was picked up by the bartender, Monroe's Precious Oller (speaking of great names). She had no clue, and when she asked her patrons for the answer I could feel their collective dumbfounded-ness through the phone.
A call into the Cardinal Lounge came next, and bartender Jennifer Binko was also stumped, although she wondered if that tree (which, remember, can never be stumped) had anything to do with it.
No, I said. If so, the town would be Mighty Oak or Branchville or Treemont or something like that.
But then it happened. Someone in the background shrieked in delight and grabbed the phone.
"Edward Brodhead!" she yelled, and how correct-a-mundo she was. But that wasn't it - she actually burst into song.
"Edward Brodhead took a trip, halfway between Lake Michigan and the mighty Mississipp; ah, something, something, something; oh yeah - he took along a bag of iron spikes, and made his name for young and old alike."
Well, I was dumbfounded. She got me.
"I learned that song in elementary school from the music teacher - Mr. Roemer I think. Yeah, Paul Roemer," said Tamara Jensen, a 42-year-old native.
Indeed, history documented by Dorothy Kundert for Brodhead's Centennial Days celebration in 1956 reads as follows:
"Land here was owned by half a dozen men who donated the right-of-way and grounds for the depot. Mr. Edward Brodhead, of Milwaukee, chief engineer of the Milwaukee and Mississippi Railroad, was one of the promoters. E. D. Clinton, I. F. Mack, John P. Dixon, John L. Thomas, John L. McNair, E. A. West and Erastus Smith were others."
Brodhead would get naming rights. As for Jensen, well, she keeps asking what she gets for getting the answer right. I'll have to get back to you on that, ma'am.
Which brings me to this: As a minimum requirement, shouldn't everyone know how their town got its name? I don't suggest deportation if not - heck, they'd be playing dumb and lining up in droves down in Freeport - but it just seems right.
Yes, those of us in Monroe have it easy on this. Only a commie wouldn't know we're named after President James Monroe - and his wife, Marilyn, who famously sang "Happy Birthday Mr. President" to him. Later, they'd have a son, Earl "the Pearl" Monroe. Or something like that.
So, all of Green and Lafayette counties, you have been warned. My next Sunday drive could take me through your town, so you could be next.
Juda, start studying your history. Monticello, hit the books. South Wayne, start quizzing everyone you know named Wayne. Browntown - well, good luck.
As for the folks in Argyle, I'll even give you a hint - assuming I can pull it over my five-head. That's right, I'll be wearing a sweater.
- John Morton covers the city beat for the Monroe Times and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.
Don't get me wrong, this town is lovely. It has the Sugar River, it has that great tree that can never be cut down because it marks the middle point between Lake Michigan and the Mississippi River, and it has plenty of nice folks. It's just that ... well ... my head is too big.
No, we're not talking ego (although some would beg to differ). We're talking actual head size. Yes, I have a broad head, so how can I reside in a place called Brodhead?
Imagine the head games people would play.
How do I know this? No, my noggin wasn't measured and no, it did not get stuck while attempting to put on a sweater. I know this because on the last family trip, my 15-year-old daughter Aly broke the news.
"Dad," she said, peering up at me with a smarmy grin, "you don't have a forehead. You have a five-head."
Ah yes, words out of the mouths of babes.
Needless to say, I no longer use my rear-view mirror when driving.
But this got me thinking about Brodhead as I approached it. How on earth did this town get its name? Could it be named after a guy who sported a giant melon?
I immediately sped over the tracks in town and headed home to Monroe do the research. Those very tracks, I'd discover, were my answer.
Anyway, I thought I'd conduct an experiment on the folks of Brodhead, to see if they were really Brodhead-worthy. I wanted to tap their noggins.
Tell me, residents of Brodhead, how did your town get its name?
A call into Payne's Pub was picked up by the bartender, Monroe's Precious Oller (speaking of great names). She had no clue, and when she asked her patrons for the answer I could feel their collective dumbfounded-ness through the phone.
A call into the Cardinal Lounge came next, and bartender Jennifer Binko was also stumped, although she wondered if that tree (which, remember, can never be stumped) had anything to do with it.
No, I said. If so, the town would be Mighty Oak or Branchville or Treemont or something like that.
But then it happened. Someone in the background shrieked in delight and grabbed the phone.
"Edward Brodhead!" she yelled, and how correct-a-mundo she was. But that wasn't it - she actually burst into song.
"Edward Brodhead took a trip, halfway between Lake Michigan and the mighty Mississipp; ah, something, something, something; oh yeah - he took along a bag of iron spikes, and made his name for young and old alike."
Well, I was dumbfounded. She got me.
"I learned that song in elementary school from the music teacher - Mr. Roemer I think. Yeah, Paul Roemer," said Tamara Jensen, a 42-year-old native.
Indeed, history documented by Dorothy Kundert for Brodhead's Centennial Days celebration in 1956 reads as follows:
"Land here was owned by half a dozen men who donated the right-of-way and grounds for the depot. Mr. Edward Brodhead, of Milwaukee, chief engineer of the Milwaukee and Mississippi Railroad, was one of the promoters. E. D. Clinton, I. F. Mack, John P. Dixon, John L. Thomas, John L. McNair, E. A. West and Erastus Smith were others."
Brodhead would get naming rights. As for Jensen, well, she keeps asking what she gets for getting the answer right. I'll have to get back to you on that, ma'am.
Which brings me to this: As a minimum requirement, shouldn't everyone know how their town got its name? I don't suggest deportation if not - heck, they'd be playing dumb and lining up in droves down in Freeport - but it just seems right.
Yes, those of us in Monroe have it easy on this. Only a commie wouldn't know we're named after President James Monroe - and his wife, Marilyn, who famously sang "Happy Birthday Mr. President" to him. Later, they'd have a son, Earl "the Pearl" Monroe. Or something like that.
So, all of Green and Lafayette counties, you have been warned. My next Sunday drive could take me through your town, so you could be next.
Juda, start studying your history. Monticello, hit the books. South Wayne, start quizzing everyone you know named Wayne. Browntown - well, good luck.
As for the folks in Argyle, I'll even give you a hint - assuming I can pull it over my five-head. That's right, I'll be wearing a sweater.
- John Morton covers the city beat for the Monroe Times and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.