Autos Across Mackinac: Civil Service Leads to Problems for Mr. Ziegler
PART 35: Labor, Management, and the Civil Service Commission
By Les Bagley

The smallest ferry in the postwar fleet, The Straits of Mackinac, was first as a spare vessel. Staffed with a full crew, which went about its duties, but without ever leaving the dock, it quickly gained the nickname "The Good Ship Lollipop" after Shirley Temple's trademark song. She soon was pressed into service with the rest of the fleet as postwar traffic built to record volumes. (Postcard from author's collection)

To mark the 50th Anniversary of the opening of the Mackinac Bridge, the St. Ignace News is publishing a weekly serialization of Les Bagley's history of Michigan State Ferries, "Autos Across Mackinac." This week, he relates how labor and wages became increasing problems in the ferry fleet with the doubledigit inflation that followed World War II.

The problems Highway Commissioner Charles M. Ziegler faced with the Civil Service Commission at the end of WWII were not of his own making, nor were they made by the Civil Service Commission, which was only now getting up to speed following it's creation in January 1941, just two years before Ziegler took office. The reasons Civil Service was created date back much further.

When built as the Pere Marquette 17, the City of Petoskey had an enclosed bow, capable of withstanding the waves of open Lake Michigan. When she first arrived at the Straits, she only loaded autos from her stern. To speed traffic in the postwar rush, the Petoskey, along with her fleetmates City of Munising and City of Cheboygan, was modified to also load from the bow. The double-ended loading arrangement meant one less turnaround on each crossing, saving about 10 minutes per cycle. (Author's collection)

Political patronage had been practiced in Michigan almost since there were politicians. It was an accepted fact of life by the end of WWI. But since Michigan had most often voted Republican in the years leading up to 1929, most of the incumbent office holders and their appointees were aligned with the GOP.

Then there was a change.

Fed up with the Great Depression's worsening economy, voters demanded something different. In the early 1930s, Democratic candidates, including (in 1933) Highway Commissioner Murray Van Wagoner, swept Republican incumbents from office. The new leaders replaced the Republican workers of the old administration with Democrats, often hired not for their competence or experience but as political favors.

Then, life in Michigan took an ugly turn. With so many inexperienced Democrats moving into government and experienced Republicans (including then Deputy Commissioner Ziegler and State Ferry Captain Fred Cronan) moving out, the day-to-day activities of the state were left in shambles. It was months, even years, before many ongoing projects could be brought back up to speed, if they were to be continued at all. The crisis was even more accentuated by the depression.

Republicans were equally adept at political favoritism. As the depression deepened, both parties leaned more heavily on state employees for political "contributions" of time and money. The request was often couched with the thinly veiled threat that if the other party gained power because of poor employee support, it was their own fault if they lost their jobs. At times the pressure even crossed into genuine extortion. Some state employees spent more time doing "party" work than doing their own jobs for the government.

Fortunately, ethical minds recognized the damage, and in 1936, a study committee was called to address the situation. Out of it came the first legislation to create a Michigan Classified Employees system. But the ink on the bill was barely dry in 1938 when the politicians realized what they'd done, and passed the "Ripper Acts," which essentially gutted the statute.

While the politicians tried to maintain the status quo, the public was not to be denied. In 1940, voters overwhelmingly approved a constitutional amendment, creating a four-member state Civil Service Commission, with two members from each party appointed by the governor.

They took office on January 1, 1941, as America entered the war, and commission staff tested each state employee for classification into the new Civil Service system. There were grumbles and requests for grandfathering of workers, but by-and-large, incompetent employees were eliminated and qualified employees were awarded more secure, dependable positions.

State ferry workers were no exception, but the strength and value of the Civil Service Commission was just being developed in 1943 when Charles Ziegler returned to the Highway Department as commissioner.

Ziegler had spent years in the department as deputy under Commissioners Frank Rogers and Grover Dillman, and in reclaiming the office from a Democratic administration, he naturally thought to return business to the way he'd seen it done before. But those methods now often ran afoul of Civil Service. The matter of Captain Andrew Coleman was just one issue.

For example, in November 1945, the Civil Service Commission ordered a raise for a drawbridge operator under Highway Department employ. Ziegler didn't think the man was worth more money so he ducked around a few accounting corners and failed to pay the man the additional $65 a month the commission ordered. Ziegler noted the man had a physical handicap which made it impossible for him to do certain work, and that, therefore, he didn't think the man was worth more than the $295 a month he was already paid.

Civil Service disagreed. Ziegler was told, "you seem to have a misconception of your job. You are to furnish the work. We will fix the pay!"

The Grand Rapids Herald took Ziegler's side of the issue. The paper noted Ziegler was elected by the voters of Michigan and held responsible by them for the economical and efficient running of his department. But while Ziegler might furnish the jobs, he was powerless to pick and choose the men who held them. The commission, instead, handed out the jobs to the men who held the highest marks on a "tricky examination." The paper concluded, "This is an impossible situation. When that time comes when a man held responsible for the economical and efficient management of his department is not permitted to say whom he may employ or the wages he must pay, he becomes a mere figurehead, and mighty few men of capacity will be willing to take executive positions under any such arrangements. Civil Service is a fine theory. In practice, it has cost the state many millions of dollars and has impaired the efficiency of those departments whose employees fall under civil service rules. The sooner this type of oligarchy is abolished, the quicker Michigan will be operated as it should be, by the men placed in elected positions by the votes of the people."

The matter didn't end there. Throughout his tenure in office, Ziegler had a way of delaying Civil Service directives, stalling actions he didn't like and redirecting blame back to the commission for unpopular decisions. After the Herald piece, Ziegler sent a letter to Civil Service Commission Director Thomas Wilson. In it, he objected to Wilson's replies to his letters, via the news media.

"I cannot understand why it was necessary that I get first from the newspapers the subject matter of your communications," Ziegler wrote. "Unless you resort to this method to detract attention from your own department, which has not yet processed our supplemental payrolls presented to you months ago. We submitted another approved supplemental payroll and as of today, almost five months later, this has not yet been approved by you."

Perhaps Ziegler seemed to spar with Civil Service more because he headed the largest department in the state. He was also the only elected department head in Michigan. All the rest were appointed by the Governor, meaning, at times, Ziegler's party-line appointments were contrary to the line of the party that held the Governor's mansion. And more than ever, state ferry workers, particularly the officers and crew members, presented a unique problem, not only for Ziegler, but for Civil Service, because they didn't neatly fall into normal categories of State Employee Classifications.

The men who worked on the ferries were sailors first and employees of Michigan second. As such, they demanded parity with other Great Lakes sailors in similar positions. Chief Engineers on the state boats had always previously been paid about the same as Chief Engineers working for the Lake Carriers Association. Deck hands had parity, as did captains, cooks, and just about everyone else who worked above or below decks. The men were paid within pennies of what the Mackinac Transportation Company paid the crewmen on the railroad ferries. And it was a fact of life that the men worked nearly every day all summer, because, except for the most senior men, they would be laid off when the boats were laid up for the winter. The Lake Carriers Association laid up their boats as well. In fact, for the coldest months of the year, only the Great Lakes car ferries run by the railroads continued to operate. At times, state ferry workers even were able to shift back and forth to find winter work there.

The first problem arose when men began returning from the war. The federal government insisted that men who had been drafted into military service be given preferential treatment for hiring back to their old jobs. But they went further, in requesting a military preference for seniority in Civil Service classifications. Men who had been employed only briefly at the ferries before the war suddenly came back and were able to bump men with much more seasonal experience, thereby removing the senior man from a coveted year-around opening.

There was also the issue of "bumping down." Senior men from one boat could bump junior men from another, meaning the junior man had to take a lower paying position during the winter, even though Civil Service had classified him at the higher rate of pay.

But perhaps the most vexing issue that confronted Ziegler, Civil Service, and ferry employees was a U.S. Coast Guard decision handed down during WWII that required the same staffing levels on the ferries as on the lakers run by Great Lakes shippers. Those boats operated with three watches, and since they only made port every few days, their entire crew compliment lived on board. That meant there were at least three times as many crewmembers as were actually needed to operate the ship at any given time. But those off duty crewmen were still there in the event of an emergency.

The presence of extra hands had time and again been shown valuable during shipboard emergencies on combat vessels and ships in convoy during the war. So the Coast Guard codified what had previously only been a voluntary crew level.

The ferries were hardest hit by the new ruling. Normally, while the captains and chief engineers lived aboard each ship full time, the rest of the officers and crew went home when their shifts were over. For the most part, they lived within a short distance from the docks. And while most lived in St. Ignace, there were some who lived in Mackinaw City, Cheboygan, and the surrounding towns and countryside.

Following the Coast Guard ruling, the Civil Service Commission ruled on July 9, 1942, that each ferry had to have two complete crews on board at any time the vessel was underway. To do this, the commission established "riding time." In other words, when each man's eight hour watch was concluded, he still had to ride aboard the vessel for an additional eight hours before he could go home.

Naturally the crewmen hated the ruling. Like their brethren on the lakers, they only worked an eighthour watch. But unlike the laker crews, they could see their homes every 90 minutes or so, each time the boat came into the dock. Until the new Civil Service directive, it was no big deal to them to just jump off and run home.

At first ,the directive was not enforced. But with more and more men returning from active duty after the war, the Coast Guard cracked down and the forced riding time became a major issue in labor relations between the ferry crews, management, and the Civil Service Commission for the rest of the time the ferry service existed. It led to ill feelings on all sides, including work stoppages, threats of violence, and even retribution long after Michigan State Ferries ceased to exist. But those issues would all come in the future.

Another issue was the length of the work week. Ferry workers traditionally worked straight through the summer season and were dropped from the payroll during winter layups. Prior to WWII, this matched the practice of the Lake Carriers Association. But following the war, more and more workers across America opted for the 40-hour work week. Deep-sea sailors and those on the Great Lakes were no exception. Except most of them were still stuck on board a vessel traveling between ports on the days they thought they should have off. The solution was overtime for work in excess of 40 hours, and, across America, unionized labor struck diverse industries in order to emphasize their demands.

Not only did sailors tie up ships, bus drivers, trolley operators, and electrical workers walked off the jobs in many cities, crippling the national economy, which was already staggering under a 15% post-war rate of inflation.

The most damaging strike was the walkout by members of the United Mine Workers, lead by John L. Lewis. In the days following WWII, coal fueled America. Homes were heated with coal. Industry ran from coal-fired steam boilers. Steamships and railroad locomotives burned coal. Even electrical generating plants were mostly coal fired in 1946.

As the coal miners' strike dragged on, fuel supplies dwindled. President Truman declared a moratorium on non-essential shipments. Railroads cut back service, with trains only reaching the Straits every other day. Passenger and freight trains were combined so they could be pulled by only one locomotive. And many major industries across the country shut down entirely, including Detroit's major automakers, throwing thousands of people out of work.

The State Ferries delayed implementation of the spring two-boat schedule to conserve the remaining stockpile of coal on hand. It was not particularly large to begin with.

The winter of 1945-46 was brutal. An ice jam in Mackinaw City prevented the Sainte Marie from leaving port for more than six hours on January 14, and efforts to break the jam with the Chief Wawatam proved futile. Service only resumed when the wind shifted, blowing the ice out away from the slips and out in to the channel.

Ferries to Mackinac Island were canceled, so on January 16, the Sainte Marie was diverted to the island on a mercy mission.

ASouth Pacific War veteran, Pvt. George Francis had just returned stateside in San Diego, when he learned his father had passed away on Mackinac Island. After a crosscountry plane and train ride, the soldier arrived at Mackinaw City only to learn the Mackinac Island ferries were frozen in. The Highway Department ordered the large ferry rerouted so Francis could get home in time for his father's funeral.

There was even more excitement on Mackinac Island the next day when it was learned that Metro- Goldwyn-Mayer, or MGM, planned to use local island settings as part of a movie that would star Esther Williams and Johnnie Johnson, two of the biggest box office draws of the day. Filming was set to begin later in the winter. But residents were disappointed to learn that most of the winter scenes would be location shots and set-ups using stand-ins. The major stars would not appear on the island until a later shooting session, scheduled in July.

Then, while the Chief Wawatam stood by to take the cast and crew to the island for winter scenes, Mother Nature refused to cooperate. The weather had been extremely cold and snowfall had been inadequate to provide the look the producers wanted. The crew stayed in California and filming was held up, waiting for the snow to fall. The crew of 35 movie makers finally arrived and was transported to the island February 11. They stayed for more than a month, departing on March 16 and promising to return later in the year with up to 150 people to finish the movie, "This Time for Keeps."

Meanwhile the thermometer plummeted to -24F in Cadillac. On several occasions, both railroad boats were stranded in the ice and had to be assisted by the new Mackinaw. Driving was hazardous across the region, and all across Michigan there were reports of cars off the road, collisions, and injuries.

It was in the midst of all this that Detroit automakers announced they would introduce a new innovation, push-button windows, when automotive production resumed at full levels, and the federal government promised that Americans soon would be able to purchase "walkietalkie" radio transceivers like those developed during the war.

The Michigan Tourist Council announced that from mid-February to the end of April, the group would promote Michigan travel in nearly half a dozen travel and sportsmen's shows throughout the Midwest.

The Sainte Marie (II) actually made several mercy runs to the island that winter. On a second run, she evacuated a seriously ill resident who was then taken from St. Ignace to the hospital at the Soo, and later, the ship returned the remains of a girl who had died in Detroit to the island for burial. The ferry also made several food runs when there were no other ships able to get through the ice.

And on the weekend of January 21, Thomas Madden took the oath as chief engineer for the ferry service. He had recently been discharged from the Navy.

In Jackson, a jury was chosen to try Frank D. McKay and four others, on charges of accepting bribes and conspiracy, while attempting to corrupt the state's liquor business. A special prosecutor was assigned to handle the State's case. For many Michiganders, it was their first knowledge of a young attorney named Kim Sigler.

Prosecution of the charges cost more than $400,000, and although Sigler apparently lost the case, he promised more indictments to come. In political maneuvers, the judge sitting on the case fired Sigler for his free-spending ways, but new revelations cleared Sigler, and on March 11, he announced plans to run for Governor as a Republican. Former American Legion Commander Raymond J. Kelly, also a Republican, and Wayne County Circuit Court Commissioner William J. Cody, a Democrat, joined him in announcing their candidacies. Yet another Democrat, former Governor (and former Highway Commissioner) Murray D. Van Wagoner, 48, would soon join them in the race to win the 1946 primaries.

As spring began, Michigan State Workers received a 10.5% pay raise and Highway Commissioner Ziegler announced that traffic on the Straits ferries was already running 10.9% above 1941, the previous highrecord year. Traffic was an incredible 119.8l% above the figures for the first two months of 1945. By the end of March, the figures were even greater, and 22,136 vehicles had crossed the Straits on the ferries, the largest number ever. Traffic was 17.6% above 1941 and a whopping 124.3% above 1945 levels.

Hearing numbers like that, resort operators anticipated a boom and combed private homes for additional rooms to house the expected hoard of tourists heading to the region for the summer. Many of the existing cabins and cottages had already been occupied by returning servicemen looking for homes during the winter.

It was at this point that nearly 400,000 soft coal miners went out on strike, idling another 800,000 workers who depended on the fuel for their industries. Faced with the coal shortage, Ferry Superintendent Hilliard Bentgen did a quick survey and found there was only enough coal left to operate one boat until May 12. While the two-boat schedule normally would have begun May 1, "We are not looking at that this year, so far as we can see now," Capt. Bentgen said.

Several shipping companies tied up their vessels for the strike's duration. In Chicago, a brownout more severe than wartime blackouts was imposed, limiting commercial electrical use to from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. weekdays, with no use on Sundays. Coal suppliers were forbidden to deliver fuel to anyone with more than a five-day supply already on hand. And the federal government ordered a 50% cut in rail passenger traffic, with only essential freight allowed. To comply, the railroads serving the Straits cut passenger train arrivals to every other day. By early May, the New York Central threatened to suspended all passenger train service north of Bay City, instead substituting an every-other day mixed train, severely crippling the potential for a banner resort season.

Just when all seemed lost, John L. Lewis ordered the coal miners to go back to work for a two-week "cooling off" period, requesting that mine operators agree to pay raises retroactively, once a new contract was negotiated. But despite the truce, President Truman moved to nationalize the coal mines and ordered the men back to work even after the truce ended. Many refused the order to go back to work.

Then the nation's railroaders turned down a 20% wage increase and walked off their jobs, bringing nearly all rail traffic in America to a halt. Fortunately, that walkout lasted only a few days, and as trainmen and soft coal miners won major raises and concessions from their employers, hard coal miners and CIO union maritime workers walked out. The sailors rejected an offer of a day off for every 14 days spent at sea. The members of the National Maritime Union wanted a 40 hour week, but the 200,000 members agreed to have the week reduced from 56 to 44 hours

Ferry workers also wanted more time off, and the Civil Service Commission suggested that for every 56 hour week they work in the summer, they be paid an extra day after the fall layoff. Since state workers had gotten a raise April 1, the ferry workers wanted one, too, and demanded pay equal to the rates being paid to other lakes sailors. Civil Service agreed, but on the condition that the men lose their benefits under Civil Service protection. The raise was offered effective May 1, and that angered the men, who found themselves divided by union representation. Some employees aligned themselves with the CIO while others hoped to have their own ferry workers union.

By early June, another heated battle was shaping up. The four-way fight in the Gubernatorial primary election saw charges and counter charges flying in every direction. Former prosecutor Kim Sigler, in a pre-election speech before a senate investigating committee in Lansing, had accused State Senator Ivan A. Johnson of graft, and Johnson sued Sigler for $200,000 for defamation of character. Johnson was head of the committee investigating Sigler's expenditures in the liquor board probe.

In a Straits-area speech, Sigler said there seemed to be a breakdown of many people in positions of trust. He said the committee investigating the expenditures had two purposes, to smear and wreck the grand jury and to smear the boy carrying the ball, meaning himself.

"If they could do that," he said, "then they could go to the 1947 session and repeal the grand jury law, and that's why I'm a candidate for Governor. I want people to know the facts."

The facts came out even more quickly than Sigler had imagined. On June 14, just before the election, Sen. Johnson was, himself, indicted for perjury and accepting bribes when he was Macomb County prosecutor. The revelations, though not directly connected to the gubernatorial race, propelled Sigler into the Republican lead, and he found he would face Democrat Van Wagoner.

Mid-June also saw a consolidation of ferry operators serving Mackinac Island. The Island Transportation Company, which served Mackinac Island from Mackinac City, merged with Arnold Transit Company, which served the Island from St. Ignace. At nearly the same time, the company negotiated a deal with the Highway Department to lease space on the north face of St. Ignace Dock 1 for their ferries to land. The agreement made travel from the Island to St. Ignace more convenient because passengers could land and depart much closer to the city's downtown business district.

With coal strikes settled and rail traffic slowly getting back to normal, the state ferries moved to their summer schedule on June 15. Three boats were put into service, with the fourth standing by for heavy traffic periods. With traffic now 13 percent higher than 1941 levels, and about 155 percent higher than the previous year, the boats would make 19 sailings a day from each side. The smallest boat, The Straits of Mackinac, was the boat to be held in ready reserve.

For the crew on The Straits, it was gravy duty. They did all the normal shipboard housekeeping, but seldom left the dock, meaning there was little actual seamanship labor to perform. Ferry workers throughout the fleet began referring to The Straits of Mackinac as "The Good Ship Lollipop," after the song sung by Shirley Temple. In practice, the nickname was soon shortened to the "Lollipop," or even just the "Lolli."

But the "Lolly's" crew didn't get to lollygag long. By Independence Day, auto traffic across the Straits surged. While levels were about 7.3% below the numbers recorded the year before the war, there were still 267% more autos than in 1945. Still, for the first six months of 1946, traffic was at an all-time high, running 19.6 percent above 1941, and an incredible 176% over 1945 totals. All the boats ran wild, racking up a whopping 23,664 vehicles in just seven days.

The Straits crew got an additional perk soon after the holiday rush ended. The MGM crew filming "This Time for Keeps" returned for summer filming on Mackinac Island, and the ferry itself got a bit part in the movie. Dressed up with flags and banners, and freshly painted from stem to stern, including even new strips on her cardeck, parts of The Straits of Mackinac bow and pilothouse appeared in a scene as the protagonist arrives at the Island.

The cast members were treated like royalty throughout their stay in the Straits area, and Jimmy Durante was even made an honorary "Chief Cheboygan" by that city's Chamber of Commerce, when he spent time with their homecoming queen and her court during a lull in shooting at Grand Hotel.

There were few lulls in Straits car ferry travel, however. The 1946 tourist season continued to build after Independence Day. On July 23, the Highway Department added four extra sailings each Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to handle the loads. By the end of July, traffic was 15.5% ahead of the pre-war peak, and a whopping 189.7% above 1945. The extra sailings helped, but by the first weekend in August, traffic was still backing up to the junction of US-27 and US-31, despite 20 lines of autos waiting on the Mackinaw City dock. All four ferries ran wild all weekend, and again on Monday when the line to the junction reappeared.

Everyone worked hard to meet the challenge of so many passengers and autos, but one person had had enough. After finally winning his job back as a state ferry captain, Andrew Coleman of the City of Cheboygan resigned at the end of July to take a position with a ferry line in Burlington, Vermont. He was replaced as master on the Cheboygan by 57-year-old Harold L. Hill of Manistee, who had served aboard as first officer. Hill had joined the ferries in 1938.

Another person also mastered crossing the Straits that weekend. A 21-year-old University of Kentucky track star, Bill Chambers, became the first person known to have swum across. He did it in 3 hours, 15 minutes, 23 seconds, crossing from Old Mackinac Point to touch land again just east of the causeway marking the uncompleted ferry dock and future bridge location.

The second weekend in August, ferry traffic was even heavier. Each day cars backed up for more than a mile leading to the Mackinaw City dock, and police speculated travelers confused "tourist season" with "hunting season."

On Monday, August 14, Great Lakes sailors struck across the inland seas, demanding a reduction in work hours from 56 to 44, and an across-the-board 10-cent-per-hour wage increase. Across the lakes, many larger ships tied up or went to anchor. Sailors manned picket lines instead of heaving lines, and nearly everything came to a standstill. Ore boats, excursion steamers, the Lake Michigan railroad ferries, and even the ferries between Detroit and Windsor fell silent. The crews of the Chief Wawatam and Sainte Marie (II) walked out. While the strike was not all encompassing, nearly every major vessel on the lakes was affected. Only the Michigan State Ferries crews, because they were under Civil Service jurisdiction, remained on the job. But they watched the situation very closely.

One by one, the shippers came to agreements with the strikers. By the end of the second week, most ships were sailing again and the sailors had won higher rates of overtime, based on a 44-hour week in port and a 48-hour week while at sea.

But no sooner had one strike wound down, than another began. On Labor Day, 43,000 ocean seamen were set to strike to paralyze shipping on America's coasts. The sailors received pledges of support from nearly 400,000 longshoremen and other maritime unions. That strike also took about two weeks to settle, with President Truman threatening to use naval ships to "run the blockade" and his wage stabilization board finally agreeing to give the sailors a raise of about $27 a month. While the unions felt they'd won, they drew fire for tying up important cargoes for so long at the height of the shipping season.

One of the cargoes tied up was fresh meat. And while not much of it was imported, with railroads not moving as many carloads to the nation's ports, the shipment of meat and livestock also slowed down to the nation's stockyards. Politicians promised an immediate inquiry, while butcher shops hung up closed signs, and American's suddenly found themselves on nearly all-vegetarian and seafood diets.

By late August, the candidates for Michigan's governorship were also taking shots at each other. Democrat Murray Van Wagoner claimed that highway development would be much more efficient under a Democratic state administration. Kim Sigler dismissed that as "nonsense," and replied, "Everybody knows that war needs made materials scarce and that gasoline taxes fell off! Even now, when money is (again) coming in, it is doubtful how much can be properly spent without intruding on (other programs.)"

While at first the candidates met together only accidentally, they later teamed up for political forums, where both had a chance to level charges and counter charges during their speeches.

Lame Duck Governor Kelly made a speech on Labor Day weekend. But his address marked a happy occasion. The Governor dedicated a new 200 square mile "paradise" in Lake Superior, to be known as Isle Royal National Park. It joined Mammoth Cave in Kentucky as a new park that September.

The new park in Michigan was just one of the reasons resort operators predicted their season might run longer into September than normal. Ferry traffic remained high, even after the Labor Day rush, and highway officials announced they would use five boats running wild to cover the anticipated crush for the 1946 hunting season. With meat supplies so low and a history of record-setting tourist traffic to guide him, Highway Commissioner Ziegler predicted a hunting season like none Upper Michigan had seen before.

That attracted the attention of Murray Van Wagoner, who promised that if he were re-elected, he'd make sure motorists would be spared a four to six hour wait for ferries at the Straits. Addressing a Democratic rally at the Cheboygan City Hall, he deplored the need to wait three or four boats for tourists to cross, and promised he'd bridge the Straits, and in the meantime, he'd finish the ferry dock at the causeway, meaning a shorter turn around time for each ferry. He reminded his audience that it was his administration that had originally proposed using the causeway as a dock, which would double the capacity of the existing fleet.

To prepare for the expected hunting rush, the City of Petoskey went to dry dock in River Rouge for a week's worth of routine maintenance scheduled for mid-October. But just before she left, someone reported shots being fired at her as she neared St. Ignace on a regular run. While nothing came of that incident, a few weeks later, the same thing happened to the City of Cheboygan. This time a passenger was struck in the ankle by a pellet from a .22 rifle. The slug was removed at the Cheboygan hospital, police investigated, and two 16- year-old boys found themselves in probate court for careless use of firearms. Apparently, they were aiming at, but overshot, a target set up on the beach, near the ferry landing.

On a lighter note in October, many employees attended the wedding of Robert Derby, the cabinwatch aboard The Straits and the son of a ferry engineer Dave Derby. He wed Hazel Cousineau, the daughter of ferry warehouseman Edmund Cousineau. As the local papers said, it was truly a "ferry-tale" romance.

Commissioner Ziegler attended a tribute to U.P. Development Bureau Chief G.E. Bishop held in Marquette. Born in a log cabin just north of Scottville, Bishop had been a dairy worker, an educator, and a school superintendent before joining the Development Bureau in October 1921, making October 1946, his 25th anniversary with the bureau. The banquet in his honor was well attended by Michigan dignitaries.

But with food prices rising more than 60% since 1941, the nation faced another round of strikes in October. Again, maritime workers walked out, tying up shipping for nearly three weeks. Railroads again clamped embargoes on shipments to the nation's seaports, bus and trolley service was blocked by strikers in many cities, and in Hollywood, special sheriff's deputies were called to break up trouble if it developed in front of major film studios, which were also hit by striking workers.

At last, in late October, President Truman lifted the rest of the "price controls," which many people had blamed for such a high rate of inflation, effectively ending the rein of the OPA from WWII.

While strikes around the country continued, the ferries kept running at the Straits. But workers also kept negotiating with the Highway Department and the Civil Service Commission for better wages and working conditions. One negotiator was left out of the process, however. In November, unlicensed personnel decided to decertify the CIO, and everyone joined in a single union made up exclusively of Michigan State Ferries personnel.

In November, everyone received an additional $30 a month pay raise in the fleet, and Civil Service finally enacted the policy of banking a day's overtime pay for each 56 hour week the men worked. The men still worked eight hours on duty, then rode the boats an additional eight hours each day, however. That was a sore point which would continue to fester in labor negotiations for years to come.

The hunting season turned out to be everything resort owners had anticipated, and more. Traffic began to back up well before the season opened, and even with five boats running on a 24-hour schedule, the ferries were hard-pressed to keep up with demand from motorists. Wednesday, November 13, was the busiest day in ferry history, with 4,583 vehicles transported in a single 24-hour period. In the first five days of the season, 13,596 vehicles and 25,813 passengers were carried. Commissioner Ziegler said the average wait was from 45 minutes to an hour, but at times it was much, much longer.

It had become apparent that the fleet of four state boats and one or two railroad ferries was inadequate to handle the large post-war rushes when they came. While candidate Van Wagoner continued to press for a new ferry dock on the bridge causeway, something needed to be done more quickly. The solution was to remodel the three largest vessels in the state fleet, the end loaders, so they could load and unload from either end. In December, Capt. Ben Houle took the City of Petoskey to the Defoe Shipyard in Bay City, where her bow was cut off, and the forward end of the car deck was squared up to match the contour of the deck at her stern. Anew, hinged, bow sea gate was fabricated to deflect heavy seas, should they be encountered. The entire gate could be lifted, like the one at the stern, to allow traffic to drive on at one end and off at the other, instead of circling the car deck each time the boat reached the dock.

The modifications cost about $75,000, with a total projected expense of $225,000 by the time each of the larger ferries was modified. Not only could the ferries land "bow in" on one side of each crossing, saving one complete turnaround before landing, but the modifications meant space for about 15 more cars per trip, since the boats no longer would need space to turn the cars around in their bows.

Ziegler estimated that total time saved could mean an additional three to four trips per boat every 24 hours. Still, as one newspaper editor wrote, "We are quickly catching up with the mechanical and dock limitations of the ferry service. The only permanent solution is a bridge."

When the statistics for 1946 were tabulated, traffic had doubled over 1945 levels, from 216,783 vehicles to 440, 325, an increase of 103%. That was 18% more than the previous record year of 1941. Passenger traffic was also up over 83% from 1945 levels. Speculation ran wild as to when Commissioner Ziegler would order bridge construction to resume at the causeway.

Next week: Ziegler declares the causeway is a "lost cause."

Copyright 2007 by Les Bagley. All rights reserved.