arrival

       His ride had dropped him off in a tiny fishing village along Lake Michigan. He found an apartment for himself from a very nice old lady Mrs. Belanger. Her dog's name was Taffy. He could check out the town tomorrow. There were sure to be scenes he could paint from, more fish houses, fishing boats and vineyards. The road sign told him Leland had a population of three hundred. It would do for now. A dollar and a quarter for each night's stay was what Belanger asked for. He had brought money for this trip. Last night he had stayed in Manistee and two nights before that at Saugatuck.

      Already his adventure had paid off. He was exactly where he needed to be. The countryside was full of vistas. Yesterday he saw beautiful lakes, trees, cherry orchards, birches and the terrain was very hilly. He got a ride with a fruit peddler to Arcadia and met a fellow from Valpo who took him to the Arcadia camp. The sight took his breath away. If it was possible he wouldn't mind spending a few weeks there. A very ritzy set up. Then an old couple selling strawberries drove him to Frankfort. He glimpsed the Crystal lake off in the woods. He heard the story about the Sleeping Bear and saw the Michigan sand dunes that stretched forever.

      He unpacked his supplies and looked again at the tugboat he had done in Saugatuck. There was something about tugboats that he liked. They were like little work horses. He looked at the row boats he found along the Kalamazoo River. Then the little tugboat underneath it. His face beamed. He had taken care with that one. That is nice, he thought grinning. Yeah, he liked that one a lot.

      What he did not like was the seasonal rain that stole time from him. 'Why does it always have to rain when I want to paint?' he thought. It had been raining from the moment he started the trip. So much for his hitch hiking plan. It was the bus that got him out of the city, away from Valpo, and farther up the road to Michigan City. He had everything he needed. His clothes, his belongings, his sketchpad, his hat, and his paint kit. Well, almost everything.

      He raised his head to listen. He could hear the crackle of laughter and shouts coming up from the beach. The painting class from Michigan was there. They would be having a beach party, he knew. The big apartment all of a sudden felt lonesome to him. This was not Valpo. His friends from college were not around. There would be no party with him tonight. He could sure use the company though.

     He enjoyed the fellowship of artists. For instance, take Mr. Joe Trevitts of Manistee. Just this morning he and Trevitts were discussing the dune paintings in the grocery store. Yes, in the grocery store. Trevitts had trained at the Philadelphia School of Fine Arts out east and kept a studio in Pennsylvania. He moved to Manistee to do a portrait of one of the well-known lumber men and a slew of portrait commissions came his way. A local gal married him and he took over her father's grocery store. But what he wanted to do was get out there and capture the trees, the dunes, the sky, and Lake Michigan on canvas. He loved the sights and the smells of that gorgeous countryside. Composing an image outdoors was no easy matter. One had to paint quickly and decisively. It was hard work. Both men understood that well. And Trevitts, yes Trevitts, had very good work indeed.

      'I hope it's nice tomorrow,' he thought, as he gathered his equipment together. 'I want to paint it all.' He knew he wasn't going to be the only one out there. There would be twelve other artists. The students from Michigan State were there.
   
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[Leland Shanty by Reinhold Marxhausen, journal sketch, June 1948. Tugboat by Reinhold Marxhausen, watercolor, June 1948. Joseph Trevitts info courtesy of Rebecca Motts, Professor of Art, West Shore Community College, 3000 North Stiles Road, Scottville, Michigan 49454  via email March 12, 2015. Story by Karl Marxhausen, copyright 2015. The narrative was based on journal entries by Reinhold Marxhausen, from June of 1948]