The exact page text, read by your browser's voice.
Mysteries · The Open Questions of the Record
Most of this history is a record of things that can be proven. This section is the opposite shelf: the questions the record itself leaves open. A mystery, as the word is used here, is not a rumor and not a ghost story. It is a documented case — a village that stood at the rapids and left no chief's name in any treaty roll, a road the city still names a street for whose surveyed line no one has produced, a fire that took nine-tenths of the business district in a night and whose cause the next day's newspaper declined, in so many words, to assign. Each entry below states what is known, states what is not known, and marks where the trail ends. Where a question has a keeper — an agency, a library, an archive whose file would settle it — the keeper is named. The boundary of this section is printed once, here: unidentified persons and open criminal cases belong to the Unsolved section of this record, not to this one. The one killing the press of record carries as unsolved stands at the close of the Crime section and is dug in the Unsolved leg, whose file has not yet been run for this city; it is pointed to here and not retold. The tales this city tells about itself — the princess, the haunted house, the line in the Air Force's sky book — are carried whole in the Folklore, Haunted Places, and Aliens & UAP sections, and are pointed to, once, and left where they belong.
The village the record cannot populate
BEFORE 1820 · UNEXCAVATED, AND UNNAMED IN ITS OWN RECORD
The ground is known; nearly everything on it is not: A Potawatomi village stood on the south bank of the St. Joseph River at the rapids, on ground the city's commissioned history bounds by present Lincolnway West, North Main and…
The road no survey keeps
THE DRAGOON TRACE · LINE NOT FOUND
The city drives on the name every day; the line itself is lost: The Dragoon Trace — the old road through Potawatomi country between Fort Wayne and Fort Dearborn, used for the mail after 1795 — crossed the St. Joseph valley at or…
The fire whose cause no record assigns
5 SEPTEMBER 1872 · CAUSE UNASSIGNED
The worst night in the town's history begins with a sentence that declines to explain it: On the evening of 5 September 1872, fire broke out in Mishawaka and destroyed nearly ninety percent of the business district, the town hall…
The two men the wars did not give back
1945 AND 1951 · STILL UNACCOUNTED FOR
The Wars section of this record proves Mishawaka's dead from the federal files; two of the city's men stand in those files with a mark the files never lift, and this section ran both names against the accounting agency's own…
The grave that is not there
1818 · ASSERTED IN BRONZE, ABSENT IN THE RECORD
Mishawaka's most famous grave belongs to a woman who never lived: The monument the citizens of Mishawaka erected in 1932 — a statue on a native boulder provided by the Daughters of the American Revolution, its tablet given by the…
The face with no original
1932 · AN INVENTED LIKENESS
Every city history has a face it cannot verify; Mishawaka's cannot have existed: The woman the city is named for stands in bronze at Lincoln Park, and generations of Mishawakans have known her by that figure — the beautiful…
The mark without an author
1891–1901 · DESIGNER ANONYMOUS IN EVERY RECORD REACHED
It may be the most-seen image Mishawaka ever produced, and no record says who drew it: The Red Ball — a plain red disc — was the trade device of the Mishawaka Rubber & Woolen Manufacturing Company, in use from 1891, carried on…
The archive that is not there
1840s–1932 · TITLES WITHOUT ISSUES; A HISTORY WITHOUT A STATED HOME
Some of this city's open questions are open because the paper does not survive, and the honest form of that entry is an inventory of the absence. Mishawaka's first newspapers are documented the way species are documented from…
The nickname, worked end to end
1922 OR 1923 · THE YEAR ITSELF UNFIXED
One small mystery, worked in the open, the way this section works them all: Mishawaka High School's teams are the Cavemen — by the school's own belief, the only school in the country with such a mascot — and the name is a century…
The keepers of the open file
THE HOLDERS, NAMED
The surest evidence that these questions are real is that they sit, every one of them, in somebody's keeping. The Mishawaka-Penn-Harris Public Library is this city's first keeper: it holds the county's newspaper archive — the…