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Adapted from Harlow’s Man in Wood, Spring 2009
MARQUETTE – Between the early 1870s and 1885 there were several places of bad repute in northern Marquette County, but one was better known than the others. This unsavory establishment was located by the Carp River east of Negaunee on the road to Eagle Mills and Marquette (now County Road 492). They called him “Carp.”
Articles on The Carp often included a few descriptive terms. Over the years, these included “Messy place”, “notorious coast of soiled doves”, “Den of thugs and thieves”, “meeting place for reprobate men and women”, “Bagnio [an archaic Italian term meaning brothel], “ “refuge for the villains and the cutthroat”, and “Refuge from iniquity.” An editorial captured the essence of The Carp by calling it “A hotbed of vice”. The pun seems to have been unintentional.
In 1872, a professional woman who worked there shot her financial advisor in both legs. It was apparently so out of the ordinary that the journal report consisted of only four sentences. One was, “The only thing to regret is that the pistol did not aim two feet higher.”
Other articles over the years have described stabbing and assaults that took place on the premises and the unruly behavior of inmates from The Carp who came to town. Whenever someone was docked or robbed on the road between Negaunee and the Carp River, reporters assumed they knew who was responsible. A January 1884 article in The Mining Journal warned “respectable people” not to travel on this road after dark because “Several highway robberies were committed there last month” by the inhabitants of the dive.
Teams of law enforcement officers led by the county sheriff or his deputies have raided the resort from time to time. They once recovered stolen goods. On another occasion, a wanted man was among those arrested by the officers, but years of raids have done little more than cause occasional and temporary disruption. Fines, short prison sentences and, if necessary, bribes are all part of the normal costs of running such a business. But after the raiders were hired and disbelievers were cursed in the newspaper columns, fines were paid and jail terms served, the situation returned to normal. The professionals returned and their loyal clientele began to descend the hill from the city again.
Around nightfall on March 5, 1885, Deputy Sheriff John Kohl was informed of a disruption in downtown Negaunee. Patrick Benan, a disreputable character who lived in La Carpe, had come to town for a sporting evening. He staggered with a gun, firing occasional shots that sent passers-by scurrying for cover.
Kohl found Benan in Gorman’s Livery stable, where, according to the Marquette newspaper, “He was trying to argue with the people in charge of the place.” The deputy boldly confronted the man and disarmed him, after which Benan became contrite. Hoping to avoid being arrested, he apologized and demanded that his pistol be returned to him. If that was done, he said, he would go straight home. Kohl returned the gun to Benan, who lifted him up and shot him in the head. After the deputy fell to the ground, his assailant fired again, piercing both of Kohl’s lungs. Benan ran out as the stable workers tried to help the injured MP.
Three doctors did what they could for Kohl, but internal bleeding was sapping his strength. His condition has been described as “Extremely critical” and there was “little hope that he will survive.”
No attempt was made to search for Benan that night, but early the next morning, official troops and unofficial search teams marched into the woods. The newspapers agreed on what they expected to be the result of this research. A reporter from Ishpeming Iron Agitator wrote: “The officers are after him in force, and if he is caught the county will likely be spared the costs of a lawsuit.” The sentiments expressed in the Mining Journal were more relevant. “If he’s caught soon, there’s only one opinion as to his fate. It would quickly adorn a floor lamp or a convenient limb.
The Negaunee Communal Council called a special session, discussed the outrage, and authorized a $ 300 reward for Benan’s capture. Outside, a crowd of citizens was forming. It was not a meeting sanctioned by a legal authority. No one had called for people to come together at that time or place, but they did come together anyway.
No one was in charge, but formal leadership was unnecessary. People knew what they wanted to do, and it didn’t involve resolutions or appeals to city or county officials. They were in the mood for action. The course of action was one that had probably been discussed over and over again, but in the form of a wish or hope that “Someone” would. Now they would do it collectively.
Two hundred people, some on foot and others in horse-drawn vehicles, began to descend the long slope in an easterly direction towards the river. A crowd, though never mentioned as such in the newspapers, marched on The Carp.
When the delegation of concerned citizens arrived at their destination, the occupants of the building were ordered to leave. Owner Mitchell Gereau and eight women emerged. They were taken to Negaunee and locked up in the prison by Field Marshal John Johnson.
Then an eyewitness said, La Carpe “ignited at several points.” A newspaper article attributed the fire to “spontaneous combustion,” adding that, “Since there was no water, the place burned to the ground. “
Within weeks there was talk of rebuilding The Carp, but the idea was so offensive to the community that it was scrapped. Then the rumor spread that a man with the quaint nickname, Peg-Leg Barrett, was planning to open some sort of boarding house for young girls in a building opposite the ashes of The Carp. A few days before the new occupants moved their belongings from their current accommodation in Marquette, the vacant house caught fire in the middle of the night. The origin of this fire has been called “mysterious” (but not spontaneous). This put the brakes on other small business development projects near the Carp River Bridge.
Deputy Sheriff Kohl’s condition continued to deteriorate. He died three days after the destruction of The Carp. At first, it was generally assumed that Benan would be apprehended quickly. Because he was so well known in Negaunee and Ishpeming, it seemed likely that he would avoid these communities. Roads, trails and railroads have been patrolled. Search teams visited isolated cabins and watched for smoke in the woods or any other indication of the culprit’s whereabouts. Over the days, then weeks, hopes of capturing the murderer faded. He was known to be a skilled lumberjack, and there were concerns that he might have managed to leave the area by staying away from settlements and roads, traveling west or south through the woods.
On the night of the shooting, a man was run over and stripped of a pair of snowshoes on a road near Negaunee. Under these circumstances, it was assumed that Benan was the thief. This was taken as a clue that he was planning to flee into the desert. The hinterland was humid in March and April, the nights were cold and there was still snow on the ground. On the other hand, the annual plague of black flies and mosquitoes had not started. There are much worse times of the year for a desperate man with a mastery of woodworking craftsmanship to race across the country for freedom across the Upper Peninsula.
Next week’s article will deal with the fate of Patrick Benan.
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