It’s a truism among contractors: Turn some dirt or open a wall and you never know what you’ll find.
Folks in Britain, to take an example, have been putting things on top of other things for two millennia, and builders scraping almost any surface are, like accidental miners, in a fair way to unearth archeological gold: Plague pits, pagan temples, Roman villas, Viking hoards, witch jars and other artifacts of medieval apoprotaic magic, and—in one spectacular instance—the remains of Richard III, beneath a car park in Leicester.
American history is nowhere near as long nor (literally) as deep as Britain’s but there’s enough of it about anyway. Even in Chesterton.
Some years ago, an R.V. Sutton crew was excavating South Calumet Road as part of a sanitary sewer project. Not long after breaking through a thick crust of concrete beneath the thin asphalt frosting—itself a relic of the days before the Bypass when the street was also known as Ind. 49 and built to withstand heavy truck and tourist traffic—the operator brought to light after more than a century what proved to be lengths of ancient rails: Perhaps the last physical vestiges in existence of the Gary Inter-Urban trolley line which, from 1911 to 1922, linked Chesterton to Gary, Valparaiso, and LaPorte.
A cool discovery for sure.
But John Scanlon’s more recent one—made on Sept. 23—is arguably much cooler.
Scanlon, a bricklayer in the employ of Berglund Construction of Chesterton, was tasked to the restoration of the historic Good Fellow Camp’s administration building at Indiana Dunes National Park. But let Jeff Berglund tell the story.
Scanlon “was working on the removal of exterior stone to expose column bases for clearing,” Berglund says. “As with the other column locations, the beam’s web was filled with mortar, flush to the outside flanges. However, this column contained a hidden surprise. As John removed the mortar, he uncovered a small copper box, neatly tucked away behind the final stone laid in the Lodge’s foundation.”
The box was heavily oxidized and it was sealed. And inside—wrapped in what the National Park Service described as a piece of “folded tar-infused construction paper”—was a curated selection of items consigned to history on Jan. 18, 1941, not quite a year before the U.S. entered World War II:
- A small silk 48-star American flag.
- A memorandum.
- A speech.
- A deed.
- Newspaper articles of the day.
The Good Fellow Camp, constructed in 1941 by the Carnegie-Illinois Steel Corporation, was developed as a youth camp “for the purpose”—as the memorandum in the time capsule makes clear—“of promoting the health, welfare, and happiness of the children of the employees of Carnegie-Illinois Steel Company’s Gary Work.” The camp opened on July 20, 1941, and was comprised of the administration building, a caretaker’s house, 10 tent platforms, a washhouse, and a dispensary. It remained in operation through 1976.
“The building in the wall of which this memorandum is found”—declared the document’s signatory, E. Earl Moore, vice-president, Carnegie-Illinois—“is the first permanent building to be erected for the camp.”
And yet this time capsule, concealed for so long and clearly intended to preserve something of Good Fellow Camp’s history, perhaps has a secret history as well.
Did Carnegie-Illinois make a record of the time capsule for posterity? And if so, has it been lost to time? Is there someone even now at U.S. Steel—Carnegie-Illinois’ parent company—who felt a frisson of excitement on learning that the time capsule at long last had been disinterred? Or is there a dusty warehouse somewhere in Pittsburgh filled with yellowed banker’s boxes in which the record was misfiled, as unlikely ever to be found as Indiana Jones’ crated Ark?
Who curated the selection of items placed in the time capsule? And what were the principles of selection? To modern eyes, the various documents seem oddly bureaucratic, more meaningful to corporate lawyers and boardroom executives than to the generations of USS children who spent a glorious week every summer in the Dunes.
Finally, did E. Earl Moore hope or expect the time capsule one day to be exhumed? And if so, what a remarkable confidence in the longevity of Good Fellow Camp and—by extension—in that of USS as well. Confidence too in the permanence and stability of the Dunes, so many thousands of acres of which, and the buildings standing on them, have been clearcut, bulldozed, and developed by industry.
It’s altogether heartening, then, that the National Park Service has invested in the restoration of this historic building and entrusted it to the experience and expertise of Berglund Construction.
The artifacts found in the time capsule will soon be put on display at Indiana Dunes National Park.
Meanwhile, Berglund Construction will continue its work on the administration building. “Over the next year, our team will undertake meticulous restoration of historic wood and masonry elements, along with essential structural repairs to preserve the building’s integrity,” Berglund says. “Additionally, we will apply new exterior finishes and restore the historic wood flooring to its former glory. Upgrades will also include the installation of new plumbing and mechanical systems, as well as modern electrical systems, all designed to enhance functionality while respecting the lodge’s historical significance.”
“Discovering the time capsule was an incredible moment for all of us at Berglund Construction,” Berguland adds. “It’s a powerful reminder of the history and craftsmanship that preceded us, adding significance to our work here. Because Berglund does a lot of historic preservation projects, we occasionally have the privilege of making discoveries like this, connecting us to the past in unexpected ways.”
