Part two of a two-part series
Boys sold minnows to fishermen, but most profitable was what John Kelly called their “little show.” At the waterfalls, Kelly and friends dived from a high bank into the deep pool. Meanwhile, another boy was passing a hat among spectators. Around 1900, decades-old, man-made Lake Como in Hokah had become a recreation destination. It was an economic boon to the entire community of Hokah, including those entrepreneurial lads.
However, as covered in last week’s column, the dam was destroyed by a flood in 1909. Surging water had deposited four to five feet of prime agricultural soil where beautiful lake water had been. It was reduced to Thompson Creek flowing through a mud hole. Gertrude Kellogg described a lake bed marked by deep ravines along with many fish, including hundreds of large bass. “After it was over, the Methodist minister, Rev. Meierbachrol, waded out in the muck and grabbed a catfish like this,” she said while holding both arms out wide. The lake had emptied so quickly that some fish were stranded in the muck. The reverend, walking along the bank, eyed a large catfish splashing around in search of water. Shedding his shoes and socks and rolling up his pants legs, he waded in to scoop up the fish in his arms and clutching it against his body, made it back to shore. The 22-pound fish, not enjoying the journey, splattered the preacher from head to toe with his tail.
Immediately after reporting the damage, the newspaper said, “Will another dam be put in and Lake Como restored? Yes! even if our live citizens must do it … Outsiders will help and a new dam surely go in.”
But the project took years of planning and financing. It was almost a dozen years (June 16, 1921) before the Hokah Chief reported, “Word came to Hokah yesterday from La Crosse of the formation of a stock company at this place to rebuild the dam and (put) up cottages around old Lake Como and make it again the favored pleasure resort of people for miles and miles.”
For contributing funds and donating labor, local citizens were promised there would be no charge for boating, fishing and swimming.
Six months later (December 8, 1921), the newspaper reported the final obstacle of settling land acquisition had been settled. Voters soon approved a bond for $9,000 for construction of a 100-foot-long steel and concrete bridge across lower Lake Como. The dam would be 30 feet high and 120 feet long.
Six months later (May 4, 1922), below the headline, “WELCOME TO LAKE COMO,” it read, “The dam is holding water perfectly – not leaking a drop, and the lake is filling fast. By the end of next week, it is expected to be with us again in all its oldtime (sp) beauty.” Earlier editor Herb Wheaton had teased his readers about returning recreation, “The fish will not be taught to walk up the bank and ask to be caught. They will have to be angled in the same old way.”
In an era before air-conditioning, Hokah once again hosted swimming, boating and fishing amid the scenic beauty of the lake and surrounding hills. With a new road for automobile traffic between La Crescent and Hokah, the resort could be reached from La Crosse in 20 to 25 minutes by car, highly more accessible than the two-hour trip during horse-and-buggy days.
There was a new hotel, a new dancing pavilion, a boat livery and various concessions. The lakeshore was plotted where cottages could be erected.
In the 1930s, Hokah businesses built a log cabin near Pilger’s Spring, which fed into Lake Como. The roomy cabin featured a fireplace and pine floor. It was an exceptional site for picnics and camping with lawn mowing courtesy of Pilger’s cows.
Anita Lee (Hartman) Palmquist (1922-2023) recalled attending a 4-H camp each summer where her father hauled a load of hay or straw to the pavilion. Each camper stuffed an oversized gunny sack to use as a mattress while bedding down on the pavilion floor. Later as an adult, for several years, Anita and her sister Eloise took Girl Scouts for week-long campouts, during which they cooked over a campfire, carried water from the spring and dug their own latrines.
In the 13 years between destruction and restoration, the brush and vegetation that had begun to grow was cleared out. But the lakebed was not dug out, an omission that many believed contributed to the eventual death of the lake. In the 1930s, the nearby hills, which earlier had had been covered with leaf-mulched forests or waist-high grass, had been stripped of timber, resulting in soil erosion of pastureland. Storm after storm allowed the lake to slowly fill with silt. Where lake water was once 12 feet deep, Thompson Creek was running through dry land. Lake Como became brown instead of clear. One resident said the gates of the damn were too often closed during floods, which further facilitated silt settling into the lake instead of washing through the dam. This person lamented the muck was so close to the surface of the water ”that a canoe couldn’t go across it.”
During the 1930s, the lake gradually diminished in size until only a mudhole remained. What once was a lakebed became agricultural land, accompanied by a spring-fed, sandy-bottomed municipal swimming pool. American Legion Post 498 built a scenic baseball diamond, where foul balls still hide on the brush-covered hillside.
Even into the 1960s, hopes lingered for restoring the lake once again with the recognition that considerable soil conservation of the Thompson Valley would be required. In 1964, a Thompson Creek Watershed project with detention dams was proposed but eventually abandoned.
However, fortunately for current visitors, part of the falls remains in a scenic park, an idyllic reminder of bygone prominence. The peaceful park and roaring falls are tucked away below Mount Tom behind the Hokah Fire Station where Highway 16 runs into highway 44. Even a short visit will be long remembered.
Sources: Hokah-area historian Barb Bissen, the Hokah Public Library and numerous clippings on file at the Houston County Historical Society.
Photo courtesy of the Houston County Historical Society
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