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The Michigan Military Academyat Orchard Lakeby James C. Starbuck Reprinted from Michigan History Magazine, September 1966 with additional notes by Brian J. Bohnett
This bizarre three-story structure of red brick, with its two cylindrical towers and its corbeled cornices, looked like a castle. Built in 1858 by Joseph Tarr Copeland upon his retirement from the state supreme court, the ten-room house had been converted into a resort hotel in 1872 by adding two wings. However, the five-year depression following the panic of 1873 virtually killed the enterprise.1 After that summer encampment, the drillmaster, Captain Joseph Sumner Rogers (1844-1901), tried to sell the idea of establishing a military school. Having no funds of his own, he finally managed to borrow a few thousand dollars from Governor John Judson Bagley and other prominent Detroiters. In 1877 Rogers bought the hotel, and on September 4 the Michigan Military Academy was incorporated. Rogers, like Copeland, was a native of Maine. When sixteen, he had joined the Union infantry. During the Second Battle of Bull Run he suffered a severe head injury, which may have been the cause of frequent illnesses in later years. His enlistment up, he returned home to complete his schooling at the Bucksport Seminary in Bangor. In 1864 he re-enlisted as a second lieutenant in the Thirty-first Maine and was mustered out a year later as a captain and brevet-major. He clerked at the War Department in Washington until 1867, and then re-entered the army as a second lieutenant in the First U.S. Infantry Regiment. Seven years later he was assigned as a professor of military science and tactics at Detroit High School.2 Rogers’ institution was closely modeled after West Point, especially in its gray and white uniforms and its postgraduate course offering a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering. Two prep-school curriculums were offered-an English commercial course and a college preparatory course-and all cadets were trained in basic infantry and artillery tactics. The President of the United States appointed a regular army officer as professor of military science and tactics, and the War Department furnished all military equipment except the uniforms. To attract members for the school band, reduced tuition rates were offered the musically talented. Claiming its students would be better educated because of their being “removed from every evil influence that surrounds the town,” the school’s catalogs warned:
Once the federal government recognized the school, the Michigan legislature quickly followed suit. Although the state never appropriated any funds toward the academy’s operation, Rogers was granted a colonelcy in the state militia, annual inspections of the school were ordered, and the graduates were accepted as militia lieutenants. Eventually, the school attained not only regional but national distinction. In 1887, Rogers’ cadets took first prize in the National Drill Competition at Washington, D.C. Two years later the academy won recognition at the New York’s Washington Centennial:
The army was as impressed with the school as were civilians, as one official report shows:
Moreover, Cornell and the University of Michigan waived entrance exams for academy alumni, and the University of Chicago offered a special scholarship to academy graduates. Despite these achievements, the school was continually in debt, as increasing enrollment required expanded facilities. In thirty years, nine major buildings, most of which remain today, were added to the campus. Never endowed and never aided by the state, the school was perpetually in debt for these improvements. Rogers spent $325,000 on the academy; yet, at his death the school was still $100,000 in the red.6 Annual enrollments rose steadily from 43 the first year to 138 by 1883. Thereafter the number fluctuated between 90 and 180. To obtain federal supplies and army personnel, accommodations for 150 cadets had to be maintained, yet in most years enrollment fell below this figure. Unfortunately, most academy records have been lost or destroyed, but some statistics are available from school catalogs:
Since 483 had graduated by 1904, and perhaps 75-100 more in the remaining three years, only one out of four of an estimated 2,500 entrants received diplomas or degrees. The number expelled cannot be determined, but many youths apparently found the isolation and rigorous training too spartan and left. Two of the academy’s dropoutsD later became famous. John Christian Lodge, who attended the academy for only half a year before resigning in January, 1881, later became a formidable and popular member of Detroit’s Common Council and that city’s mayor in 1928. Edgar Rice Burroughs, author of the famous Tarzan novels, attended in 1895 and was slated to graduate that year, but his name is not included in alumni listings of the academy’s subsequent catalogs.8 For those who did persevere, the academy provided a good education. Most went into business, a few into the army. The most notable graduated included:
Unfortunately, most of these men did not achieve success before the demise of the academy and its founder. From Colonel J. Sumner Roger’s viewpoint, the school’s outlook seemed rather bleak. Not foreseeing the fruits of his labor, he must have felt quite discouraged. Pecuniary difficulties weighed so heavily on the colonel that they undermined his health, and he was forced to step down from the superintendency for a year in 1892. At the turn of the century he was again taken ill, just as a major crisis struck the academy. A student riot occurred on December 10, 1900, which developed into a full-scale revolt the following day, ostensibly because of food shortages and mistreatment. On the door of the castle, the colonel’s residence, cadets painted, “Down with the Dog.” Delegates presented an ultimatum to the ailing superintendent at his bedside, demanding that both Rogers and his quartermaster resign. When Rogers presented the boys’ grievances to the faculty, they sided with the students, making it obvious to the colonel that the teachers were not only abetting the rebellion but were probably its instigators. Thereupon Rogers dismissed two ringleaders-men who happened to be the ones most popular with the students-Major W.G.S. Lowe and Principal W.F. Edwards. The remaining faculty resignedE, but the school’s trustees sided with the founder, suspecting faculty complicity because of their earlier, abortive demands for pay increases.11 On the seventeenth, cadets from Illinois held a meeting at the Palmer House in Chicago to present the issue to their parents (nearly half the enrollment that year hailed from that city). Principal Edwards afterwards addressed the meeting and described Rogers as an “Òunbearable martinet who can’t get along with anyone.”12 That same day an editorial in the Detroit Free Press defended Rogers by ridiculing the students’ supposed grievances. After all, “the cadets were not sent there to cultivate epicurean taste.”13 A week later Rogers attended a similar meeting in Chicago to defend his own stand. He pointed out that the crisis would never have arisen had not the Spanish-American War forced the federal government to withdraw the academy’s regular army officer. His place was filled by a state militia officer, whose lower disciplinary standards clashed with those of the regular army devotees. Rogers promised things would get back to normal in January, as the government was assigning Captain B.A. Irwin to the academy. Nevertheless, when the school reopened with new instructors,14 attendance dropped to 19 from the 141 of the previous fall, although late arrivals brought the number up to 110. The academy was saved, but not its founder. For over a year he had been seriously ill, and the rebellion aggravated his condition. Specialists in Baltimore and New York who were consulted concluded that Rogers suffered from a mysterious and incurable “affection of the brain.”15 Rogers was indeed a tragic figure. He had nursed his pet project on shoestring financing for twenty-three years, only to see it undermined in the end. That his younger son was implicated in the rebellion must have been doubly heartbreaking. Yet had he lived another twenty years, he could have taken great pride in the achievements of his elder son and other alumni. But even in death, fate was not kind, for on the same day, within an hour of Rogers’ passing, President William McKinley died in Buffalo, New York. Rogers’ obituary, relegated to the back pages of local newspapers, went almost unnoticed. General Harris Ansel Wheeler (1850-1931), then with the Illinois National Guard, came to salvage the academy. He was Rogers’ brother-in-law and a native of the same town in Maine. Wheeler had served as the school’s first quartermaster. Since then he had become a successful inventor and manufacturer of Wheeler Coach Seats in Chicago. He attained his rank as a brigade commander in the Illinois National Guard and as an aide-de-camp to the governor. Faced with the academy’s $100,000 indebtedness, the general spent much of his own money on the school in a futile attempt to balance the books, but he was forced to resign in 1906 to forestall his own bankruptcy.F Ironically, Rogers’ widow rejected an offer of $250,000 for the property after the founder’s death; eight years later she was forced to sell out for one-third that amount. On December 30, 1908, the school closed, and on June 1, 1909, a court approved its sale to Detroit’s Saints Cyrillius and Methodius Seminary. Though ignored by the history books,16 the academy did leave behind reminders of its brief and colorful past-the castle and several other distinctive buildings. Yet the passing stranger, intrigued by the unusual architecture will not be aware of its former usage, for no commemorative plaque adorns the site. There is a historic markerG at the lake, but it advertises the legend that Chief Pontiac roamed the area. While no proof supports this claim,17 the academy, on which there is ample information, remains unidentified. Thus the past is not only forgotten but becomes twisted in modern perspective. Notes
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