It seems that it would be most inappropriate to ignore the announced closing of the Northwoods Supper Club, at one time and for many years one of the very few outstanding restaurants in Upper Michigan.
The business was started by Fred and Emma Klumb, who came to the area from Wisconsin in 1934. It was a success from the very beginning. I went there with my parents shortly after it opened, and at that early age what I remember from the menu was fried chicken so good that I can almost taste it (figuratively, of course) today. The first log building was filled with eager customers. It was difficult many times to get a table.
Two additions were built over the years, making rooms for separate meetings. But it is the original building which most retains the charm. I spoke recently with Ron Klumb, now in Florida, and he hopes that the new owners will preserve the original building.
Ron took charge of the restaurant in 1960, and it is from that new beginning that I remember it most. The parents remained very active, supervising Ron, no doubt, and continuing to set the standards that made it so famous.
The Northwoods cut all of its own meat on site, in a special refrigerated building. It had a complete bakery, producing all of the baked goods used in the restaurant. It featured a sweet roll that was made with pastry dough, not bread dough.
Then there were the pies, made by Ron’s mother, Emma. Most famous and remembered by some as something wonderful was her lemon chiffon pie.
I clearlyremember going into the kitchen area with Ron and seeing a large steam kettle, simmering meat and vegetables to produce the powerful reduction as the base for the Northwoods sauces. There were many innovations from the Northwoods. The first salad bar was designed by the long-gone Chalet restaurant and taken up by the Northwoods, who popularized it throughout the U.P., even unto this very day.
Shortly after opening, the Klumbs acquired a beer and wine license, and at one time it featured more than 100 beers and hundreds of different wines, including many greats of the day. It is important to remember that this is years before such variety became popular.
The Northwoods was known as a place that always strived for quality. There was innovation, but not at the expense of quality. For instance, before the Caesar salad became ubiquitous and before it became mostly terrible, the Northwoods served a Caesar salad made tableside that drew many of us there. (The only place that I have visited in recent years still making a really good Caesar tableside is an Italian restaurant—wasn’t Caesar Italian?—in Montreal.)
Ron ran the Northwoods from 1960 until he sold it in 1998. In addition to this big job, he was one of the leaders in almost every civic food function in the Marquette area. There were, over the years, several copycats of the Northwoods, and while Northwoods business might have been hurt by them, no other restaurant in the area achieved its high quality standards.
A fond farewell to the Northwoods. We’ll never see the likes of it again.

An almost shocking winter experience 
It was extremely cold in Marquette a few weeks back, and everything was freezing up. If you don’t live in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, you will be inclined to not believe this story, but it is true. When we get cold up here, we get cold.
I got up early on one of those bitterly cold mornings to get ready to take my dog, Lute, for his first walk of the day. Lute is a big Black Labrador, and he is strong and healthy. Unlike us superior animals, he does not need to wear outer clothing, and on most days of winter, he does not need to wear boots.
I knew this was probably going to be a very short walk because of the temperature deep into the negative numbers. Surely he would soon lift a leg because his foot was cold, then it would be another leg, soon he would be trying to lift all four at the same time.
This is a very difficult maneuver, even for a Black Lab, although I have heard of it being performed by dogs who weigh less, as they don’t have so much weight to get off the ground.
I have had a personal experience with the “off the ground” matter. When I was a freshman at the University of Michigan, many years ago, we took a mandatory gym course and one of our very first exercises led by a very demanding instructor went as follows: Okay kids, he said, on the count of ONE, you will bend down and grasp your ankles, firmly. On the count of TWO you will lift yourself off the ground. Only a couple of us were able to successfully complete this exercise.
But, let’s get back to the main story. As soon as I got up, being very perceptive, I noticed that the lights in our house were very dim, as though they were not getting enough electrical power. The coffee maker would not make coffee, and even the refrigerator was struggling noisily to produce unneeded ice cubes. I was more worried than Lute, but we went outside anyway.
It was still dark and when we went around the west side of the building something struck my back. My senses became sharpened, and then I noticed something completely astounding. Floating all around me in the bitterly cold morning air were jagged shards of frozen electricity. Yes. There they were, looking just like you would expect frozen electricity to look.
Thinking quickly, for which I am well known, I reached out, ignoring any possible danger to me and grabbed two or three of the floating electrical charges and rushed them into the house before they could get away from me, and I quickly shoved them into the nearest electrical outlet.
Almost at once, the power surged. The lights came on strong, the coffee maker went to work and Lute and I felt very satisfied with our morning work. It was a good day made bright by our quick American heroic actions.
 
Top Secret
While I am on the plane of unusual stories, something happened in Iraq recently that you never heard of, anywhere, and it is only through the good work of the Marquette Monthly Investigative Team (MMIT) that it can be revealed at this time.
You probably remember that a few weeks ago there was a Sunday display by American forces of various armaments alleged to have originated in Iran. It was big news. But, there was something else not displayed, something more important than the weapons parts. You won’t see it anywhere on TV. 
If MMIT had not dug around diligently you would not know about it now, either. It seems that during the digging process to find the alleged Iranian weapon parts in the deep and secretive sands of Iraq, a very special coin was found; it was in almost perfect condition, looking almost as though it could have been cast in our times.
Clearly, this is not the case, however. It is an almost solid gold coin from the Persian days. Engraved on the edge, reading as clearly as though it had been done last year, is the date 1838 BC.
Watch for this coin to show at a prestigious coin auction, asking millions of dollars for it. Who do you suppose leaked this wonderful story? Certainly it wasn’t vice president Cheney. Remember, you read about it here first.
 
Our flexible language
The February issue of Reader’s Digest had a choice note that “United States Department of Agriculture officials are substituting the term ‘food insecure’ for ‘hungry’ in a recent report that showed that 35 million Americans went without enough to eat in 2005.” Well, that’s one way to wipe out the hunger problem.
—Don Curto

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