Joanna Belle Harkness Cartledge, 1922 - 2013

Middle Bass, 2003: Mary Jo, Jennifer, Elizabeth, Tara, Shirley, and Mother.

Joanna Belle Harkness Cartledge of Middle Bass Island, Ohio, born May 26, 1922, died on Monday, January 28, 2013. She was the daughter of the late Charles and Lilian (Brown) Harkness of Vestaburg, PA, and Detroit, MI. She was proceeded in death by her husband of 69 years, Douglas Cartledge, and her older daughter, Amy May Thomas Reidling. 

As part of the war effort in the 1940s, Mrs.Cartledge built Pratt and Whitney engines. In 1941she graduated from the Del-Mar School of Cosmetology.  With her husband she owned several island businesses, including the Erie Island Mirror, Doug’s Ice Fishing, the fishing boat “Way Ahead,” and Island Pottery.  Her final business, Belle’s Dolls, received national and international recognition for a series of 43 U. S. President and First Lady dolls, which she sculpted in porcelain and costumed authentically.  She was a member of the International Association of Doll Artists. For five decades, she served as an election poll worker, and in the 1990s she was recognized by the State of Ohio for voting in every election for fifty years.

Mrs. Cartledge is survived by two sons and her surviving daughter, 8 grandchildren; and 10 great-grandchildren.

Memorial tributes may be made to your local chapter of the Salvation Army (which Mother honored because of the vital services she saw them offering to the destitute during the Depression) or to the Middle Bass Fire and EMS Department, 455 Fox Road, Middle Bass, Ohio, 43446.

The Mystic Isle at Lonz Dock

From The Cartledge Archives: The Mystic Isle Put-in-Bay Auto Ferry landing at Lonz Dock, Middle Bass Island, Ohio, identified with my mother's handwriting on the bottom of the photo.

I learned from a class at the Kentucky Historical Society that in preserving photos, the first step is to remove them from any album in which they're stored. Then scan them at the highest resolution possible and file the scans on your computer, on disks, on thumb drives, and on whatever other devices are devised in the future.

The essential principle in historic preservation now is to have digital copies in as many forms as possible in as many different places as possible.

Middle Bass Island Grade School, Spring 1960

Ha!  Here we are, the total school population of Middle Bass Island Grade School, circa spring 1960.

From left:  Karen Kuemmel, Douglas Cartledge, Amy Cartledge, Mary Joanna Cartledge, and, in the foreground, Carolyn Riddle.

Karen and Douglas were in seventh grade; Amy was in sixth; I was in fifth. Carolyn has the grin of a child whose front teeth just came in, so she's either in first or second grade.  We were the core island scholars for several years. The only children younger than I were Carolyn and her siblings.

Regarding the building in the background, I rather think it's Walt and Izzy Swisher's home/store, although the style of the windows makes me wonder.  Perhaps it's Frank Roesch's house, which was also white with tall windows and buildings in the back.  Why were we there?  The answer is lost in memory, as is the answer to the question of how my mother, who was fastidious about the way her children dressed, let me out of the house with my petticoat showing. We aren't wearing the white gloves that were de rigeur for field trips.  However, you'll notice that bangs were a happening fashion statement that year.

Belle Hits the Big Nine-Oh!

Joanna Belle Harkness (Cartledge), 6 months old

My mother is hitting The Big Nine-Oh!

(now called) Annabelle, 1923, 1 year old

We invite you to help set her day aglow

High school graduation (she had bright red hair)

by sending a Heigh-ho! a Hi-ho! Hello!

My dad shortened her first name to Belle. Photo ca. 1950

She doesn't need chickens, chapeaus, or Bordeaux,

Christmas card, 1981, with Mr. Punch peaking over her shoulder

nor escargot, stilettos, or a new backhoe;

but one thing about which she remains gung-ho

Summer 2003

is hearing from dear friends and loved ones, and sooo . . .

We ask that you send her a card or a note,
a letter, a missive, a poem, a joke,
a picture, a paper, a postcard, a quote,
a jingle, a phone call, a quick anecdote.

Mother, October 2011

No matter the method, she'll be happy you wrote.
*****
Mother, in true islander fashion, still loves getting mail.  And it's a gift that has lasting value, because every time I visit we re-read the cards she's received over the last few years.

Our goal is for her to get 90 birthday cards in the month of May! Please join in the fun! 

Mother remains strong, healthy, and clear on names and relationships. You could help her memory a jot, though, by mentioning if you're a friend of Amy's, or you painted pottery at Island Pottery, or that you own a beauty from Belle's Dolls, or that you're a member of my international fan club.

Here's the address:
Joanna Belle Cartledge
Meadowview, 83 High Street
Seville OH 44273   USA

Middle Bass Monday: Erie Island Mirror

Subscription list for Erie Island Mirror, 1950, and mailing documents.

 

Hazel Heise was the postmistress during my early childhood. She lived in the big white house across the street from the town hall. When she retired, Thelma Schneider became postmistress.

Middle Bass Monday: Amy May Cartledge

Amy Cartledge, 1962

Amy, my older sister, with our first cat, George.  Our father was running a taxi boat between Middle Bass and Put-in-Bay.  One evening, that cat, scrawny and with a dreadful wound on his neck, strolled up to the boat at Put-in-Bay.  Discussion certainly followed, but when we children got up the next morning, the cat was sitting up tall in a chair in the living room  Amy and I used to dress him in our doll clothes and feed him with our doll's bottles.  He'd put up with it until the milk ran out.

 Amy was in the 1964 Ottawa County Fruit Queen pageant.  She was a junior at Put-in-Bay High School at the time and was Miss Ice Fishing Guide, 1963.

She was third runner up.  The dress she's wearing is satin in two shades of blue.  Evening gowns being in short supply on the island and with no time for a trip to the mainland for shopping, Amy wore a dress loaned to her by Thelma Schneider.

Amy was more than just a pretty face, though.  From an article by Juel Reed Cover in the Daily News (Port Clinton / Oak Harbor):
"Because of four wonderful teenagers, the sale of the MS gift tags in the Lake Erie Islands area is already higher than it has ever been before for the whole season . . .  Mrs. Fred Wilhelm makes the tags . . . This year the sale is being conducted by four young volunteers - Mary Eickler worked on North Bass, Amy Cartledge on Middle Bass, and Janis and Lee Wilhelm on Put-in-Bay.
" 'The thing I'd like to stress,' writes Mrs. Wilhelm,'is that these kids asked to do it.  Certainly they deserve a lot of credit.'" . . .
"She said the sale as of Nov. 10 was $44, which is already bigger than ever before."

In high school, Amy decided "Amy" was boring and changed the spelling of her name to Aimee.  (If you think that's an achievement, 15 years later she convinced her younger son that I was older than she. Eventually, she reached the same age as my brother Charlie, who's ten years younger than I.

 After high school, she attended Patricia Stevens Casting Agency in Toledo.  The gown she's wearing in the photo on the right was the pink lace prom dress Mother made for me in 1966.  I don't recall just exactly how Amy got her hands on it.

 Amy in 1981 with her two sons, David Thomas and (hidden by the blankets) Michael Douglas Reidling.

Amy, Mother, and I in 1985.

Amy Thomas Reidling

July 3, 1948 - March 8, 2003

Middle Bass Monday: The Main Dock, October Morning

Middle Bass Monday: The Main Dock, October Evening

 The amazingly large new dock house on Middle Bass.

 I remember those clouds from when I was a kid.  Lake Erie is really good at producing gray skies, night and day.

Middle Bass Monday: breaking news 1951

Some more items from the January 1951 issue of Erie Island Mirror:


"A couple of hours later a party left Put in Bay for Port Clinton but reported cracks up to six feet wide.  They altered course for Middle Bass and a visit to Lonz Winery.  They were:  NORMAN HEINEMAN; HARRY AND LOUISE HEINEMAN; ETHAN FOX; ART. AND VAL TRAVERSO.  While there they phoned Karl (skinny) Parker and convinced him that they were in Port Clinton."


"Warmer weather has brought several foggy days.  Over 100 people were stranded on the island [South Bass], Jan. 14th.  Next morning, Island Air Service ran shuttle service until everyone was cleared."

"The ERIE ISLE FERRY CO. is contemplating the building of a small boat to replace the Mystic Isle which they sold last fall.  it is doubtful whether the new boat will be available for the Port Clinton run before 1st. July.  However, it will be a decided asset to the whole island when it does run for we will have a more regular service to Port Clinton and possibly more trips each day than it was possible to make with the Mystic Isle.  Besides, it will probably be registered on Middle Bass due to lower tax rate."

Middle Bass Monday: Erie Island Mirror

 

In December 1949 Belle and Doug Cartledge published the first issue of Erie Island Mirror which, their records show, was published monthly (with some exceptions) until September, 1951.  At the time, they had three children, aged 32 months, 17 months, and 3 months.  They also had animals, as revealed by the following item in the January 1951 issue of the Mirror:

"Next month we would like to say a few words about goats.  As you know we have two ourselves, but you may not know that we get around four to six quarts daily of wholesome milk from them.  Perhaps there are a few other facts about goats which you may find interesting.  See our next issue."

What's most interesting about that paragraph is that roughly two decades later they'd get a new goat, who soon became an island fixture, following people on daily walks to the post office, running up the stairs inside our barn to investigate / spy if she heard noises to the south of our property, and breaking into the house at every opportunity to clean the dining room table of the contents of the sugar bowl and anything else even moderately edible.

I can only guess that Milt's renewal arrived while Mother was in the middle of addressing this postcard.

My parents studied books on owning a small business and on marketing, which shows in their mailing products.

January 1951 Erie Island Mirror.

The issue had one page of Put-in-Bay news; two pages of Middle Bass news, three pages of advertisements, and a page titled "Festive Fruit Cake for The New Year."  The page features a photo of a two-layer frosted cake in the shape of a bell and the recipe, which calls for a "handy package of Layer Cake Mix."  Oh, the times they were a-changin', with women all over the country eschewing bake-from-scratch cakes in favor of those handy packages.

I'll scan the issue once I determine how to take it apart without damage. Meanwhile, here are the top news items:

"The coldest night recorded was Dec. 26 [, 1950].  Unofficially 15 below zero on Catawba, 5 below on Put in Bay, zero on Middle Bass, and [illegible] on North Bass."

"On Friday, BILL MILLER and BILL MARKET drove to Port Clinton in a Model T tourer.  (BILL MILLER has since been called to service in the Coast Guards and is stationed in California.)"

"We helped LESLIE BRETZ unload a bulldozer blade off the plane the other day.  We understand that this is an accessory for his Ford tractor, to use for scraping and also to plough snow off the roads.  It is anticipated that now it won't snow again all winter."

The mentions of the temperatures and of Bill Miller remind me that Miller's Ferry began running regular trips to Put-in-Bay last week and was contemplating adding trips to Middle Bass this week. That 15 below zero and 5 below zero were hardly atypical when I was a child on the island.  Boats running in February?  No.

Anybody hanging on to the illusion that global warming was invented by scientists (because . . . why? Are scientists notoriously wild and crazy guys who like playing practical jokes on the rest of the world?) can catch a ride on Miller's and spend the trip contemplating what open water on Lake Erie in February portends for the rest of the world in the coming decades.

On Writing Again

I've been a dervish of tidying, which I fear is connected to the book proposal I'm mentally writing.

I'm cleaning out, nesting, and battening down the hatches all at once, a mixed-metaphor precursor to finding within myself the necessary levels of stupidity and forgetfulness that will free me to enter into a new book project.

Easier to pledge to scourge yourself once a day with a metal-tipped flog. You might convince yourself that a scourge or two is pleasing to God; but you can't bullshit about writing a book. The process demands utter concentration and a powerful indifference to other people, spiked with intermittent blistering annoyance.

The writing, editing and publishing of my 2003 book was one of the three worst experiences of my life.  My husband Fred died a month after I signed the contract.  My sister died two weeks before the book was released.  In between I had to listen to an insufferable agent tell me that I needed to put Fred's death in the book "for balance."

Yeah.  That's what she wanted out of my husband's death:  balance.

At the time I was still having to remind myself to tie my shoes each morning; and I'm not a whore, so eventually I advised the publishing house that rather than include Fred's death I'd return the advance and reclaim my manuscript. 

The agent fell off the face of the earth (I'd been warned but thought it impossible in my case); the editor was let go from the company; the publicity person got fired; the in-house make-it-happen person left
to be an agent ; and the book became that most useless creation, a publishing orphan.

To round things off, George W. Bush threw a war and newspapers threw out the reviews of Grace they'd planned to publish in favor of big photos of shock and awe.

I put 70,000 miles on my car, showing up for every signing, Q&A, book fair, symposium, and retreat I could get myself into.  (For those of you who believe in the book-tour fallacy?  I'm still paying off that credit card.)  And then the United Methodist Church -- a major character in the book -- refused membership to a gay person, making a mockery of every sermon I'd ever preached and every statement I'd ever made about the Church's goodness, mercy, and inclusivity.

The entire process was like every other death you endure.  I've kept circling my wagons and seeking shelter in the center, near the campfire.

A bigger man might have written a new nonfiction book sooner, but a bigger man can't write with the beauty and wisdom and rhythm and authenticity and metaphor that I do. A woman might have done it, but (no news here) we are still a sexist society, and women with any sense read the book, wrote to thank me for telling the truth, and put the book back on the shelf, after wiping off their fingerprints.

Regret?  Yeah, baby. I regret every minute I wasted on that book.

On the other hand, I'm going to sue a number of copies in a piece of performance art, as soon as I clear up a few questions about outside burning in the county.  I read Fahrenheit 451 years ago and have reread it numerous times since. Of course I'm opposed to book burnings; but in this case it's my book, my match, and my decision.

Meanwhile, I've got this book taking shape in spite of myself.  I know the first three paragraphs; and I'm experienced enough to know that when I write them down, the next 200 pages will emerge like a river overflowing its banks.  But it's December.  I have things to do.  I'll continue to put this project off until I have no other choice.

Mr. Punch and friends

Belle and Doug Cartledge (he's wearing his puppeteer hat), with Mr. Punch looking over my mother's shoulder, 1981.

Belle's Dolls, the early years

One of the first dolls Mother made.

Back then, Belle's Dolls was not yet established and the series of First Ladies and Presidents that Mother sculpted and for which Daddy cast molds weren't even a dream.

They'd made puppets when I was little, carved and dressed them, but this was an Island Pottery doll.  The photo was taken on the picnic table in front of my folks' house on Fox Road.

Cartledges, circa 1979

Front row:  Amy's David scratching his head, my Jennifer nearly invisible in front of my mother,  my brother's older daughter Sharon, and my Tara.
Back row:  Doug Cartledge, Mary Jo Cartledge, Amy Cartledge Thomas Reidling who looks taller than I am but was three inches shorter (it's the heels!), Belle Cartledge, Douglas and Charlie.

 A mystery photo! I think we're standing at the base of Lonz's hill, and that the building visible to the right is what was the Shop at the Dock. Amy's Michael Douglas hasn't arrived yet, so that makes it the late 70s.  It's possible this is the trip when my good friend Mary Flowers went along, and she would have taken the photo.

I'm smiling at the girls, my dad is smiling at my mother, and Amy is smiling for the camera.  And thus it always was, with one minor blip.  Amy was Miss Ice Fishing Guide Queen in 1963 or 1964, and I went on to win the crown the following year.

Making Music, 1967 ^

July 10, 1967.  Doug Cartledge on violin, Lesley Wilson on 5-string banjo, Elmer Wilson on guitar.

Elmer Wilson and some friends rented a school bus on what was Albert Gmelch's property on the north shore.  If you drove straight up the main road, not turning at the pear trees, and continued down the dirt / gravel road, you'd pass Carrie High's house (now Bob White's) on the right and Albert's (now the Middle Bass Inn) on the left before driving into the lake. Between the houses and the water was a silver school bus, which is where the Wilson family vacationed.

Originally, I think Elmer and John rented the bus merely for fishing trips.  Amy and I got to go out with them sometimes; we were experts at baiting hooks with worms but were both unnerved by the enormous sheephead Amy caught that lay on the floor of the boat groaning.  Elmer worked at a glass factory and got four weeks vacation a year, so he'd come up often during the summer.  Then the whole family started coming, which is when the major music / singalong sessions in Elmer's kitchen began.

Lots of people used retired school buses for vacationing at Albert's.  None of them had bathrooms, although some of the houses further down the line west of Albert's house surely did.  Otherwise, Albert's outhouse was the communal toilet; and if you wanted to bathe you could have yourself a sponge bath or take a bar of soap along into the lake.

Yeah.  Bathing in the lake, back when Lake Erie was a pool of water, arsenic, Lake Erie water snakes, flammable materials, and dead fish floating to shore.  Good times.

When I say music-making, I mean playing and singing until two in the morning.  Elmer would sometimes have his daughter Penny play guitar, and he'd pick up on the ukulele.  The adults, especially the musicians, had shots of whiskey between sessions.  We kids would walk down to our house sometimes, watching our shadows grow in the moonlight and the quartz glittering on the road. When the monument was turned off, there was true natural darkness, dependent on the phase of the moon, and the stars!-- if you never lived far away from the electrified world, you've never seen the true depth, breadth, and number of stars.

Loving My Life

I've been off doing fabulous things rather than posting.

First, I'm nearing the December 1 deadline for those participants who are taking part in Mailart 365.  We decided we'd make a piece of mail art a day for a solid year.  I'm not the only one who tends to work in bursts rather than in daily dollops.  I'm also not the only one who gets to put in overtime in the next ten days to finish on time.  I've posted 252 of my art pieces since December 1, 2010.  I've completed 271!-which means I have fewer than a hundred still to make and 19 days left in which to make them.  It's a fearsome deadline, but also no deadline at all, because the aim is 365 pieces of art, not a calendar date.

I've also been posting a photo every day on my 18-day-old blog about the art and life of Middle Bass Island.  This project, as you might surmise, is walking hand-in-hand with my efforts to get various photos and documents and pieces of paper and whatever else passed through my parents hands dry and de-bugged.  I'm pretty sure I have a year's worth of potential postings. My favorite post so far is the one on November 10 showing photos of Jim Roesch raising the flag at the Main Dock early one morning.  Jim and I talked for a few minutes afterwards.  I'd remembered that he and I cleaned cottages together one summer for Jim Bretz.  A few years later, I think he worked at the Shoppe at the Dock when I was waitressing there.

Jim's wife Mary owned the shop My Aunt Erma's on the island, and one day when Mother and I popped in to buy something darling, Mary remarked that Jim had more jobs as a kid than anybody else she'd ever heard of.  I can probably tie him in the jobs-as-a-kid category, and so can most everybody who spent summers on the island.  Things needed to get done, and there were a limited number of people to do them.  All hands on deck.

Otherwise, I spent several hours today at the ginormous Unique Thrift Store on Preston Highway (the same awful, busy, nothing-but-strip-malls street down which my Chihuahua was found wandering before being delivered to the Humane Society).  Every holiday they throw a 50 % off sale, and today (yesterday; November 11) was no exception.  The store opened at 9:00.  I arrived at 9:15 and didn't get my hands on a shopping cart the entire three hours I was there.  I found materials for three art projects that I've been contemplating; as well as embellishments and a canvas and some paints and even more things that I didn't bring home. There were a number of things I'd like to have purchased, but after the first half hour, I was making decisions based strictly on weight.  That meant no books and no cast iron and no bulky what-have-yous.  Even so, by the time I came trickling home, I was ready for a nap and lunch.

Tomorrow I'm gong to my friend Karen's exciting exhibit, complete with music and poets, at the Iroquois branch of the Louisville Free Public Library.  It runs from noon until two, and I'm hoping to return home with photographs.  In between these adventures, I'm still working to get my etsy shop open.  I made a banner that I hate.  I have items for all three categories of sales:  hand-made, supplies, and vintage.  Things need a little tweaking still, and I must sort out how I'll store items between posting and purchase; but if it's to be done, 'tis best done quickly.  Christmas waits for no one, and the stores are full of jingle bells and mass-manufactured pseudo-necessities.  Art, now -- art is worth giving, and worth getting; it changes us; and not for the worse.  I must get on with it.

Keep in touch. I'm always happy to have you leave comments.

Birthday greetings

Congratulations to Cinammon on her recent college graduation!

Lonz Winery interior, 1950

Lonz Winery, Regatta 1950.  From left:  Richard Roesch, Albert Gmelch, Doug and Belle Cartledge

Island Swapping | Article Archives | Cleveland Magazine - Your guide to the best of Cleveland

Island Swapping | Article Archives | Cleveland Magazine - Your guide to the best of Cleveland

July 2004 article about North Bass that heavily references the State of Ohio's plans for Middle Bass.

Current Events

CSG seventh-graders take trip to Stone Laboratory


The article doesn't indicate how or why the Columbus School for Girls got to Middle Bass, or what they did if/while they were there; but it's a thorough recounting of what must have been a splendid adventure at the Monument and on Gibraltar.