The Marbachs – Rob, Will, and Rev Marbach standing on M-22 in front of the parsonage. 1930’s.
Courtesy Omena Historical Society.
1937 Road Grader
M22 was a busy road in 1928, but unpaved. The road grader went by twice each day, up the hill to Northport in the morning, and back south to Suttons Bay each afternoon smoothing out the ruts. It raised a lot of dust, but that did not bother Bob and Effie Barth, or their cows who crossed the road twice each day to get to pasture and back. And it did not bother Bill and Rob, two little boys who spent every August of their childhoods living in the parsonage of Omena’s church across from the Barth’s farm.
Bill and Rob’s dad was Rev. William Marbach. Every year the whole family waited expectantly to hear from the church session inviting them back to Omena for the month of August. And every year from 1922 until Reverend Marbach died in 1965, they did.
The Parsonage
The Parsonage of Omena Presbyterian Church with the church in the background. Courtesy Omena Historical Society
The Marbach residence in the parsonage gave the boys a front-row seat to the throngs of life in the village of Omena: cottagers coming to the village for their mail, the arrival of boats at the dock, cars passing through the village, and Maude’s much anticipated stops at the rail station on the hill above Omena. At lunch time, and again before dinner, pickers walked from nearby orchards to town with their tokens to buy groceries, and back again to the camps or cabins where they stayed. Two by two young priests from Villa Marquette walked past. Indians walked by on their way to and from Ahgosatown and the Barth Store. And kids came past going to town or to swim at the beach.
Dr. William H. Marbach in the 1930’s. Courtesy “Omena, A Place In Time” by Amanda Holmes.
Reverend Marbach must have appeared a little out of place, there in the little parsonage on the dirt road across from the Barth dairy farm. He was a city minister for the rest of the year, and so in the pulpit he dressed as he did there in his tailcoat, striped pants, and wing collar, which was the custom for Presbyterian ministers in the city. Rob and Bill sometimes accompanied their dad on his pastoral calls, calling on church members in town, as well as cottagers on Ingalls Bay and Omena Point. They visited the local farm families, and became acquainted with the Paul Ahgosas, even having dinner with them in their home in Ahgosatown. The boys became friends with them all.
Cordray’s Omena Inn
Their only other neighbor was across the large open field where Bob Barth took his cows to graze during the day… Sweetie Cordray’s Omena Inn, which sprawled over the grounds of the former Dougherty property behind the parsonage. Everyone in Omena knew Theresa as “Sweetie,” a name she was given because of her sweet disposition and her fame as a cook, especially for her Sticky Caramel rolls.
The Second Omena Inn in the 1930’s when owned by Sweetie Cordray Bidleman. Courtesy Omena Historical Society
Thomas Cordray was famous among the children for his two wooden legs. Mr. Cordray had lost his legs in a childhood accident, and, although this never kept him from attending to his guests at the Inn, he died just two and a half years after they opened in October of 1934. Even though Sweetie got married to Charles Bidleman a few years later, the Inn was always known as “Sweeties Omena Inn.”
The Inn was a beehive of activity, with its own ball field, which welcomed all who wished to play on it. Every week as well, the Inn’s employees put on live shows for the guests in an indoor theater that held as many as one hundred people. Local families and their children, in particular, were welcome to see the productions, with musicals like “Oklahoma!” being the favorites.
Sunday dinners at Sunset Lodge, Rev. Marbach is in the center, back row, and his two sons, William, and Robert, kneeling in front (ca. 1930s). Courtesy of the Leelanau Historical Society
The Presbyterian Manse
From the Presbyterian Manse a short distance away, Reverend Marbach could hear not only strands of music floating through the air, but also tennis games on the courts with the sounds of the balls rhythmic volley, and the chatter of the players.
I am sure he also heard the dinner bell ring for every meal. And Bill and Rob felt it all calling to them. They had to pick their way carefully when they crossed the field going to the Inn. After all, Bob Barth’s cows had been there, and their mom would not have been happy to have them coming home after stepping in some of the cows’ leavings.
Morgan Landing, near Ahgosatown (ca. 1905) Courtesy “Omena, A Place In Time”, by Amanda Holmes
The boys were typical kids, roaming the area, playing on the old handcar on the railroad tracks, fascinated as all the Omena kids were with “Maude,” the train which passed by daily. They picked raspberries along the tracks and used the hanging straw filled gunny sack of a tree swing with their friends at Sunset Lodge.
Mom Harriet
Their mother, Harriet, banned swimming during the “heat of the day” from noon until 2:30. So this is when Rob and Bill roamed the countryside around Mud Lake and the old golf course exploring, and later in the evening they sometimes went fishing in the little lake. But twice a day without fail, Bill and Rob went to the beach which was the playground for kids of all ages: Sunset Lodge guests, and kids from the old Page House on the hill were regulars as well as a diverse group of permanent residents, summer residents and visitors, Indians, and pickers who all came there to swim. They used the Sunset Lodge canoe. There were water games and competitions. They swam to and from the dock, diving, and swimming under and around and through the old pilings, climbing up and diving again. Bill built a raft which he paddled back and forth to the dock. They seined for minnows and fished off the dock.
Anderson Dock on Omena Bay (ca. 1915). Courtesy Omena Historical Society
Anderson Dock
The dock itself was a destination for people. In 1928 the long shed still protruded far into the Bay just east of M22. People driving by would stop to walk out on the dock. Over the years the rise and fall of the water level, high waves and winter ice took its toll on the dock. Each year Rob and Bill saw first the shed, then later more of the dock disappear, until by the 1960’s, only a few pilings rising out of the water were left.
What made Omena a unique town was the interaction and mutual respect between Indians, townspeople and resortors. It was, and is, a special kind of place.