Unknown Brewery leads to Tragic Tale

A little known, yet tragic catastrophe at Downsville became known while in search of a Brewery that once graced this little place. A recent acquaintance of mine made mention of a brewery that some researchers of malted beverages had made note of. Having never heard of such an enterprise in my hometown, I was intrigued and thus began another long journey down the trail of historical discovery. To set the stage of perspective, I will begin where many a good tale has begun, the Civil War.

Following the war of brothers, the re-united United States of America had a substantial debt load which required a means of taxation to pay for it all. One of those relief measures included the taxation of breweries and Downsville had just such an enterprise. Those researchers had scoured records from every angle available and found the tax record of a ‘John Sheibly’ paying his due tax for 1867, on a brewery located near Downsville. This singular tax record on fifty-six barrels during the summer of 1867 could easily be dismissed as a one-time deal or a mistaken location but in 1878, Mr. A. S. Tibbetts placed an advertisement in the Dunn County News, “Brewery Place, one half mile south of Downsville comprising forty acres of land with two dwelling houses and the brewery building. Low price and easy terms!” The ad ran four times in October and November of 1878 with no buyers and due to a tragedy in July 1879 the brewery became forever removed from the town and historical reference.

Hearing the name John Sheibly as the possible brewer, my ears perked up, my mental correction said Shively and the location given by the ‘for sale’ advertisement by Tibbetts begged further research. Growing up in Downsville, most everyone was familiar with Darcy Shively, and I dare say that most of the older generations knew his family and their ownership of the Downsville House. Darcy, forced by eminent domain, had to demolish the old hotel that his family had owned for a couple of generations when Highway 72 was to be built in the 1940’s going right through the lobby of the place. Darcy built his house on the balance of the property and moved to Milwaukee to work, retiring back at that house. ‘Sheibly’ or ‘Shively’ was the challenge as I saw it, and a quick search into Darcy’s family shows John Shively as his grandfather, living near the location of the brewery. Unfortunately, Darcy has long departed this earth and no search of any family history or other records can confirm that his grandfather was indeed a brewer for a brief time before becoming a wagon maker and then a millwright. There was no shame in the art of brewing, no need to hide such rare knowledge and skills but in a land of opportunity, John Shively may well have chosen a more lucrative path to self-reliance.

A. S. Tibbetts owned the property that the brewery sat on, alongside a small creek that ran through the corner of his property. The only location that seems plausible is the creek next to Rose Hill cemetery, the creek they once called “Pinch Gut creek.” The creek does not come down off the high Knapp Hills further west, its origins are the cumulative springs from Lower Weston, through the Billings and Braker valley run offs and finally the weight of Chimney Rock Bluffs forcing cold, artesian water into the small stream. Highway ‘Z’ turns west off highway ‘C,’ passes by Pawnell Cemetery and over the creek as the original route west to Comfort, Weston, Elmwood and beyond. This original route had somehow earned the name ‘Pinch Gut Road,’ so the creek adopted its informal name. The creek today still has no formal title and has become a seasonal trickle from snow and ice melts in the season. Only a few of the residents of a certain age know it by the name of ‘Pinch Gut.’ This valley has been a quiet place and legends of our Native Culture crafting arrowheads near the creek and possible burial mounds long pre-dating the ‘Pinch Gut’ name. Pinch Gut is an old term denoting severe poverty and lack of food resources so bad that one had to “pinch off the gut” to stave off the hunger inside. I have not yet found the basis for this nickname, but I am sure it came from those moving west who found relief from the eastern troubles, seeking the productive life most settlers here enjoyed and gladly trading the moniker for a positive future making it an ‘inside joke’ to their prosperity.

The Tibbetts were early settlers here in Downsville purchasing several large and bountiful tracts of land on the south side of the Red Cedar River. At least two town plats that were laid out for early Downsville proposed the main residential streets and residences to be south of the river. Land speculation was not a new idea and quite likely the farming value of these lands and the business aspect of the north side forced the abandonment of the earlier town plats. Much of Downsville had been laid out in ‘lots’ early on and many of the lot sales were buried in the descriptions of section lands. These lots were not part of the land patent records but were fairly traded and sold as such small acreage that the records are difficult to trace unless one has a good reference to some of the oral history there. The south or west side of Downsville has a rich history and heritage. Pawnell Cemetery, Rose Hill Cemetery, Downsville House, Downsville Schools, stores, taverns, post office all began here, made Downsville a community and not simply another lumber mill town on the Red Cedar. As Dunnville faded away, Downsville became the point of note and thrived with organizations, activities, dances, social gatherings of prominence and a permanent community of people moving beyond the industrial envelopment of the Knapp Stout and Company, Company.

Pinch Gut Creek provided the fresh, clear, and chilly waters needed to develop a brewery and productive land provided the grains necessary for an old immigrant Swede, knowledgeable in the arts of beer. What gave this site even more importance to the making of good ‘German’ lager, was the sandstone banks along side Pinch Gut Creek. The process of brewing lager beer is a “cold” process requiring that the aging of the brewed ingredients occur in a cold storage space. A sandstone cave was the perfect venue for such a process and so, a Downsville brewery was born on the banks of the creek. John Shively may have been just what the Tibbetts settlers were looking for, setting up a brewery, enlarging the cave, and making a small piece of unusable land into an enterprising one. Stores, taverns, blacksmith shops, a sawmill, rough hewn immigrant men and rooming houses along the stage line to Menomonie would certainly have provided a market for a properly brewed beverage from the old country. The brewery was real, the cave was real, and real is the history swept away in an event of 1879 that is lost to a few minor sentences in the local papers of the time. The remnants of the brewery cave can be found where Highway ‘C’ crests the hill by Rose Hill Cemetery. The fresh blacktop patch marks the cave that continues to collapse and show everyone that Pinch Gut still haunts us.

In 1875, Casper and Anna Blatter emigrated to the United States from their home in Switzerland. The young farmers found their way to Downsville and purchased one of those original small five-acre lots at a place where Pinch Gut Creek emptied into the Red Cedar River. Casper became Naturalized in November of 1876 and the new American citizens proudly blended in, working hard to make their new home prosper. The Blatter couple did nothing of note but blended in and worked the land they owned by mortgage. Cruel circumstances brought an end to their dreams, their land, their buildings, and their lives. A storm developed on July 2, 1879, which caused that tiny Pinch Gut Creek to rise far above its lazy meander. On July 12th, the Dunn County News published the account reported to them from Downsville to wit: “The Big Storm. Casper Blatter and his wife Anna living near the mouth of a small creek that comes into the Red Cedar about ¼ mile below that place, were swept away with their dwelling and drowned. There is nothing left to mark the place where they lived. Barn, outhouses and even land – all gone. Farther up the creek was the residence of E.L. Livingston and family. Their dwelling, with all their household effects was swept away, the family barely escaping with their lives making their exit from the house through a window and wading through water three feet deep to higher land. Five minutes later, escape would have been impossible. The Brewery situated on the stream a short distance above Livingstons was also taken away. Mrs. Blatter’s body was found on Sunday last in Beef Slough at a point near opposite of what is known as the Coburn place and Blatter was found on Monday in the Chippewa River near Round Hill. Several persons went from Downsville and identified the bodies. They were both buried near the place where they were found, the condition of the remains being such that it was thought not best to bring them home for burial.”

The tragedy of these young immigrants’ lives lost in a freak storm and a mere short column mention in the newspaper suddenly made the brewery an interesting side note and the untold story of the Blatter’s needed to be brought to life. The next mention of Casper and Anna was in May 1914. The Dunn County News published the memoirs of Mr. John Flick and his life in the early days of Knapp Stout Company. He made note telling, “In 1879 there was a cloud burst which raised the river above Dunnville 20 feet in about 8 hours. It raised Pinch Gut, a little creek a little ways below Downsville, so that it carried away two houses and 2 people by the name of Blatter.” This area would not see another Blatter name, also immigrants from Switzerland, until 1954 when Abraham Blatter moved to Menomonie from Barron and opened a cheese factory here. Abraham also raised prized milk cows, farmed crops and was a beekeeper. I have no reason to believe that Abraham ever knew of the young Casper and Anna or the tragedy that befell them. I could find no family ties between them despite their common nationality and rare name in this country.

Following the death of the Blatters came the matter of the estate. Although it was mortgaged and unsatisfied, the personal property, the dwelling and physical possessions washed away forever, the estate needed to be legally settled and accounted for. A young lady by the name of Barbara Linder came forward and informed the court that she was the sister-in-law to Casper Blatter and was the closest relative available. Barbara had immigrated with her uncle and aunt whom she cared for in their older age, living in Plum City. Anna Blatter was Barbara’s older sister, and she took charge of the estate, asking the court to appoint John Flick as administrator, this being granted. Barbara went on with her life and John Flick carried the weight of the estate to its conclusion and final decree in 1882. A long and arduous process even then. John Flick may even have been related to the Blatter family and the Linder family as well. Those families have common regions in Switzerland and their names were often intertwined. Flick has been pronounced and written as Fluck, Flug, Flick, and many other variations through Germany, Switzerland, and the many countries that begat them throughout time.

As always, there is so much more to tell, but my rusty fingers and struggling composition have made my generous readers suffer enough. My hiatus from writing had not been planned by me, but rather, planned for me and I am happy to be back at the keyboard. The inner voice screaming at me to compose this and other already researched tales has beaten what remains of my mind to near death forcing me to at least begin to write once more. Thank you all for bearing with me as I work my way back to story telling our history and hoping to inspire others to do so as well. I will find which tales leap to the front demanding attention with a follow-up ready for publishing soon. I have made promise to a dear friend that I was going to cover Galloway Creek in Menomonie to highlight the extraordinary work being done there clearing and cleaning this wonderful resource within the city limits. We shall see where my fingers and piles of notes lead me.