In August 1932, during the Great Depression, the first cooperative house at the University of Michigan was organized by graduate students in the Student Socialist Club. In return for four to five hours of work and two dollars every week, each of the founding eighteen members received room, board, barber, canning, and laundry service. The first house was a rental house located at 335 East Ann Street. The house was run collectively with all members having an equal vote on decisions. 

With the assistance of the Reverend Henry Lynn Pickerell, the student pastor of the Ann Arbor Disciples Church, and his wife Katheryn, two additional cooperative houses were formed in 1936 and 1937. The Pickerells welcomed students to live in their house in exchange for performing household chores. By 1936, eight students were living in the Pickerells’ attic. With the help of a $700 loan from Reverend Pickerell, the students rented a house on Thompson Street, first named the Student Cooperative House and then the Rochdale House. Since the University did not allow men and women to live together, the women who often visited the Rochdale House sought a cooperative house for themselves. The women rented a house at 517 East Ann Street and opened the Girls’ Cooperative House. In 1939, they had to move to 1511 Washtenaw Street, and took on a new name, the Alice Freeman House, named for the women’s rights activist.

The three independent houses, joining together to allow the purchase of items in quantity, formed the Inter-Cooperative Council in 1937. The houses were organized by the Rochdale principles: open membership; democratic control; political neutrality; opposition to discrimination by race or religion; and the promotion of education.

As the number of cooperative houses continued to expand in the late 1930s and early 1940s, the ICC became responsible for the houses’ financing and assignment of personnel to the houses. By 1941, eight men’s and three women’s cooperatives were operating in rented houses. During this expansion, all the houses were rented until 1943, when the A. K. Stevens House was purchased. Professor A. K. Stevens (the father of Ann Arbor’s late city historian, Wystan Stevens) served as a faculty advisor to the ICC and agreed to co-sign the loan to buy the house.

During World War II, many of the male students enlisted in the armed services. The cost of rental housing was increased by an influx of war factory workers. These two factors caused many of the cooperative houses to close. By 1946, only three cooperatives continued in operation. In 1944, during the war, the ICC voted to buy rather than rent property. After the war, the ICC centralized some functions to meet legal requirements and to limit the liability of the members. The titles to the houses were held in common and the charges at the different cooperatives were equalized through the centralization of finances.

In 1951, despite concerns from some students that paid leadership was at odds with cooperative values, the first ICC employee was hired when the cooperative students voted to approve the hiring of a full-time executive secretary. Luther H. Buchele was hired and continued to work for the ICC for nearly thirty-four years. The Korean War, as in World War II, led to a reduction in the number of male students. College students were not exempt from the draft. 

Over the ensuing years, there has been considerable growth in the number of cooperative houses and the number of students living in the houses. The Baby Boom following World War II created additional demand. Between 1967 and 1972, the ICC tripled in size from roughly 200 to 600 members. The number of cooperative houses grew from nine to twenty-two (this number includes the nine “houses”, now called suites, in the Escher house on North Campus). The number of full-time staff increased from one (Luther Buchele) to three and then four. It would be thirteen years before the ICC purchased another property.

In subsequent years, houses were bought, sold, renamed, renamed again, changed from men’s houses to women’s houses, from women’s houses to men’s houses, houses became co-ed houses, some houses became vegetarian. After a long period of planning and contention with the University, a large cooperative housing complex was built on North Campus, one cooperative became substance free, another focused on QTBIPOC (Queer, Trans, Black, Indigenous People of Color), one house burned, and some houses combined. Ruth Bluck, who lived in three of the cooperative houses (Rochdale, Owen, and Osterweil) was the first woman to become ICC President, serving from 1946-1947. Forty-two years later, Jennifer Skwiertz (Minnie’s House) was the second woman elected as president of the ICC, 1978-1979.

The Inter-Cooperative Council now has a house at 337 E. William St. (above) that serves as its headquarters, an education center, and sixteen houses. Additional information on the Inter-Cooperative Council is available at the University of Michigan's Bentley Historical Library. The Bentley Library has an extensive archive of materials donated by the Inter-Cooperative Council covering the period of 1932-2015 and the Inter-Cooperative Council at Ann Arbor website includes A Brief History of the Inter-Cooperative Council.
 

Co-op houses north of Central Campus (north of East Huron Street)

Co-op houses south of Central Campus (mostly south of Hill Street)

Co-op house west of Central Campus

Co-op house on North Campus

Three University of Michigan students, Alex Deighton, Curtis Hunt, and Paul Rizik, as part of the course Understanding Records and Archives: Principles and Practices (UMSI 580), in the University of Michigan’s School of Information, created a house-by-house history of each of the houses in the Inter-Cooperative Council at Ann Arbor. Some of that information helped in the writing of the descriptions of each of the houses.

For more information about the Inter-Cooperative Council at Ann Arbor, consult the 1994 book published by the council: In Our Own Hands: a History of Student Housing Cooperatives at the University of Michigan, by Amy Mericle, Suzanne Wilson, and James Jones.

The following excerpt is from the book's Afterword, "How This Book Came to Be," by Jim Jones:

“Until now, this history has largely been hidden away in filing cabinets, basements, and libraries. Of course, the current members are not totally ignorant of the past. Past written histories, stories of past exploits, and oral traditions – some of them apocryphal – have all given members a sense of how the co-ops came to be. This book, however, is the first attempt to exhaustively research and compile that rich heritage.”

For a few, brief years in the 1870s the Mozart Watch Factory of Ann Arbor was on the rise to rival the best watchmakers in America. Don Joaquin Mozart was one of Michigan’s “most promising inventors.” Called a “genius” in the New York Times, he patented 11 inventions related to clockwork. Yet his business skills never quite lived up to his innovations and he died in the county poorhouse. 

A Family Missing & A Family Made

The details of Mozart’s early life are uncertain. He was born in Italy sometime between 1820 and 1826 and moved to America with his family near the age of three. His father’s occupation varies by the source: he was a watchmaker and his son took after him, or a street musician distantly related to the more famous Mozart, or a man of wealth who fled Italy for political reasons and was assassinated in America. None of these are particularly likely, but what can be said with more confidence is that he died when Don was young. 

The remaining Mozart family ended up in the Boston area. It was near the harbor there, when Don was around the age of 9, that he was lured onto a ship “by the promise of curious shells” and taken out to sea. It wasn’t uncommon for ships to capture young men or boys as crew members when they couldn’t find volunteers for arduous journeys, and they often preyed upon poor immigrants. Young Don Mozart sailed for seven years. He searched for his family when he returned, but his efforts failed and he never saw his mother or siblings again.

Fending for himself, Don found work as a tradesman where his skill at mechanics became clear. By age 30 or so he was the established owner of a jewelry store in Xenia, Ohio and filed his first patent for an “automatic fan” propelled by clockwork. The patent advertised a quieter machine that would be particularly useful for fanning the sick or sleeping, and keeping bugs away. With his profession secured, he married Anna Maria Huntington on September 4, 1854.

Don and Anna started their family in Ohio, welcoming their first daughter, Donna Zeralla, on February 28, 1857 and then their second, Estella Gertrude, on November 28, 1858. Don continued to invent, patenting an improved clock escapement (the mechanism that moves the timepiece’s hands at precise intervals) in 1859 wherein he listed himself as a resident of Yellow Springs, Ohio. By 1862 the family had relocated to New York City and welcomed one more daughter, Anna Violet. 

Career Clockmaker

As a resident of New York Don patented another improved clock and watch escapement in 1863 with Levi Beach and Laporte Hubbell credited alongside him. The three men followed this in January 1864 with a simplified and more compact calendar clock that claimed to register leap years and run for a year with one winding.

Don’s talents gained him enough recognition that a company was created to produce his patents. The Mozart Watch Company was established in the spring of 1864 in Providence, Rhode Island and the family relocated there. Capital of $100,000 was secured along with a factory and machinery. Then, before any product seems to have been produced, the stockholders pulled out in the spring of 1866. No distinct reason could be found to explain their change of heart, other than a new belief that they wouldn’t earn a return on their investment. Don was replaced as superintendent, the company was renamed the New York Watch Company and, in contrast to the name, moved to Springfield, Massachusetts. 

Less than a year later, in January of 1867, Don Mozart began anew in Ann Arbor. Advertisements for “Mozart & Co,” a dealer in clocks, watches, jewelry, and silver-plated ware, ran in the Michigan Argus. The shop was located in the Gregory Block on the corner of Huron and Main. Still tinkering with timepieces, his first patent in this new era was filed in July of 1867 wherein he listed himself as living in New York despite his new store in Michigan. Regardless of the residency, the patent was granted on December 24, 1867 and became the basis of his even greater business venture in Ann Arbor. 

Michigan’s Mozart Watch Company

By the summer of 1868 the second Mozart Watch Company was progressing in Ann Arbor. According to a July 24, 1868 article in the Michigan Argus, “the capital for testing the invention has been furnished, a building secured in which to commence operations, an engine put up, the best of machinery purchased, and a force of experienced mechanics set to work, not exactly making Watches, but making tools with which to stock the factory.” The goal was to produce watches based on the recently issued patent that contained no dead-center or setting-point and required only a small number of parts, allowing for cheaper production.

The company’s growth continued, occupying three stories of Dr. Chase's building according to the February 19, 1869 issue of the Michigan Argus. The article concluded, “We shall expect to see the company soon turning out A. No. 1 watches.” On New Years Eve 1869 a gold watch was presented to Reverend Charles H. Brigham of the First Unitarian Church, confirming that the Mozart Watch Company had managed to start production.

Just six months later the Michigan Argus was pleading with citizens to prevent the company from leaving the city. It had “turned out a number of beautiful watches,” but “the few men who took hold of the enterprise find themselves without means to prosecute the work on the large scale which is necessary to make it a success, and that they have not met the encouragement and support which they had a right to expect from the community at large.” 

Advisors to businessmen from Milwaukee and New York had visited the factory to assess the machinery and patent’s chances of success. “The agent of the Milwaukee parties – a practical man – pronounces the watch, and clock soon to come out, a perfect success…If Milwaukee men stand ready to invest $300,000 in it, cannot our capitalists be induced to invest one third of that sum to retain it here?”

The appeals went unanswered and a group from Rock Island, Illinois bought out the Mozart Watch Company, renaming it the Rock Island Watch Company. Then, like in Providence, the company failed to produce anything before the stockholders withdrew their support. A lawsuit commenced in the fall of 1871, alleging fraud in the sale. The battle concluded in the fall 1873 when it was dissolved after an appeal.

Panic & Final Patents

Just as the court case was wrapping up a greater worry replaced it. The financial panic of 1873 swept the nation and the local banking house of Miller & Webster closed its doors for good in September of that year. The Michigan Argus reported that “a large share of the losses will fall upon parties illy able to bear them,” and this seems to have included Don Mozart. 

Don had always been reliant upon his strengths in innovation. He is recounted as saying, “that he never knew the time when, if he was short of money, he could not hide himself in a hole for a month, and work out an idea that would bring him $1,000.” The article concludes that “money has come to him so easily he has valued it little, has spent it with a prodigal generosity, not to say reckless, and having, most of his life, no special occasion for what is called business shrewdness has in later years been victimized by speculators in his genius.” As he had all his life, he persisted, and that same fall the Michigan Argus included an advertisement for watch repairs by Don Mozart.  

Before the loss of his savings, Don had filed a series of three patents that were approved in July of 1873: another improved escapement, an upgrade to calendar clocks, and a self winding watch. This trio held the potential to earn his savings back. They were designed to be used together in one watch that would include dials showing the month, day of the month, day of the week, AM or PM, quarter seconds, seconds, minutes and hour. It would be wound by the user opening and shutting the watch case five or six times a day and no damage would be sustained by heavier use. He is said to have gone to New York to find funding, but the wealthy residents who would be able to offer the capital were away at their summer homes and he was told to return later.

Always seeking improvement, he took a portion of the watch apart during the interim and lost a piece of it in the process. He was never able to figure out how to put it together again. Before he could return to New York, he lost control of his mind. On December 2, 1874, Don Mozart was taken to what was then known as the “Michigan Asylum for the Insane” in Kalamazoo. Reports claimed that his “fits of temporary insanity” had been going on “for some time” and that up until his removal to Kalamazoo “he was talking extravagantly but coherently enough, of his brilliant prospects and the wealth and success that awaited him, and detailed to friends minutely the terms of an agreement that he claimed to have just made with persons in New York, though he had never gone to that City after his visit in the early Summer.”

The papers attributed his loss of reality to “the strain upon his mind made by his newly invented watch” and the failure of Miller & Webster. In 1875 he was moved to the Washtenaw County Poor House, and died there on March 15, 1877 at the reported age of 58. He was buried at Forest Hill Cemetery and obituaries were carried in papers across the country. 

Collectible Chronometers

It is difficult to determine exactly how many Mozart watches were finished. Estimates vary from 13, to 30, to only a few. The examples that were reported on or have since been located often contain personalized engravings indicating that they were made for investors and friends. They remain as exemplary samples of American watchmaking and their rarity makes them highly sought after by collectors. 

In 2016, a "Chronometer-Lever Escapement" watch signed "Mozart Watch Co., Ann Arbor, Mich., No. 7, Don J. Mozart Patent Dec. 24, 1868" was sold by the auction house Bonhams for $5,250 (the patent date seemed to be a mistake, corresponding instead with the patent of December 24, 1867). Sotheby's auctioned another in 2004 as part of their “Masterpieces from the Time Museum” group. 

Remaining watches can be found as part of the National Watch and Clock Museum, the Paul M. Chamberlain collection, which was displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago in 1921 and found a permanent home at Michigan State University, and the Washtenaw County Historical Society.

In 1956, on empty land behind the Botsford Tile business on West Stadium Boulevard, 27-year-old Don Botsford constructed Ann Arbor's first commercial fitness center. From the outside it wasn't much to look at, just a simple 33 x 66-foot concrete block building with a Unistrut ceiling. Don built much of the structure himself, on property owned by his father Tom Botsford. The building still stands today, as part of Top of the Lamp at 415 S Maple Road. The Botsfords were an old Ann Arbor family, dating back to the pioneering days of the city. Don had graduated from Ann Arbor High School in 1946, and then attended Central Michigan University where he majored in physical education and minored in health education. Don felt that his hometown of Ann Arbor needed to improve its approach to the health and well-being of its citizens, and decided to take matters into his own hands. After years of working at his father's tile shop, and saving money for his dream, Don was finally ready to welcome the public into his new facility. He called it Ann Arbor Gymkhana.

gymkhana, noun: a meet featuring sports contests or athletic skills

Ann Arbor Gymkhana appeared in the city long before local businesses offered HIIT workouts, boot camps, pilates, CrossFit, barre classes, and all the other endless exercise options you can think of. Fitness machines weren't readily available. 1950s workouts typically involved calisthenics, and basic equipment like dumbbells and barbells. Extra frills might include hula hoops and jump ropes. Don Botsford's new business offered Ann Arbor a new twist to physical fitness: trampolines. In an Ann Arbor News article, Don boldly claimed "I bet I can get kids on a trampoline faster than on a dance floor". He declared his new business "the only one of its kind in the country, with its safe floor level type of trampolines, and its combination of weightlifting and gymnastics apparatus".

Weights & Trampolines

Opening the first commercial fitness center in town had its drawbacks. One obstacle was the reputation of weight lifting. According to Don Botsford, University of Michigan football coach Fritz Crisler gave his players detentions if he found out they were lifting weights. "They thought it would cause their players to lose all their coordination and become big, dumb weight lifters." Trampolines were also a relatively new method of exercise for Ann Arbor. Botsford himself had benefited from a combination of weight training and trampoline skills, and worked hard to convince townies of the health benefits. Safety was an important factor in using all of the equipment, and instructional classes were emphasized. Don Botsford also encouraged women to visit Gymkhana, an innovative view at the time. His enthusiasm for living a healthy lifestyle, along with his charisma, drew people of all ages to the new business.

Athletically, Ann Arbor Gymkhana was a great success. During the first eight years of business, Botsford coached weightlifters and trampolinists to win more than 125 awards in each sport, including some national and state titles. Many were in the Michigan Association of Gymnastics (MAG). One notable group to frequent the facility, and accumulate awards, was the Huntzicker family.

George Huntzicker, who frequented Ann Arbor Gymkhana as a child, would go on to lead Ann Arbor High School to a State Championship in 1965 by placing first in trampoline, floor exercise, and vault. He attended the University of Michigan, joined the gymnastics team, and was NCAA champion on the trampoline in 1968 and 1970. George also won the silver medal in the 1970 World Trampoline Championships. Newt Loken, who coached the University of Michigan's gymnastic teams from 1947 to 1983, says he believes George Huntzicker excelled and went on to win the world championship largely due to Don Botsford's coaching skills at Ann Arbor Gymkhana.

Tramp-O-Leap

In the summer of 1960, Ann Arbor Gymkhana experienced some competition in the nearby city of Ypsilanti. A franchise known as Tramp-O-Leap, which billed itself as an outdoor "trampoline playground", was spreading around the United States and Canada. Ypsilanti Tramp-O-Leap opened at 205 Ecorse Road in July. It offered 10 floor level trampolines available for 50 cents per half hour, from 10 a.m. to midnight, seven days a week. Not to be outdone, Gymkhana installed four outdoor trampolines, also available for 50 cents per half hour, one month later. Don Botsford called Gymkhana's outdoor experience "Uppen-Gebouncen Floppenfielt". Ypsilanti Tramp-O-Leap didn't last long, but helped to fuel the growing trampoline craze.

Spaceball

Many local residents who remember Ann Arbor Gymkhana will tell you it was THE PLACE TO PLAY SPACEBALL. The game first surfaced at Huron Valley Swim Club in Ann Arbor. When the response was favorable, Don Botsford installed Spaceball trampolines in Ann Arbor Gymkhana.

To understand Spaceball, it's helpful to know a bit about the history of trampolines. A gymnast named George Nissen is credited with designing the first commercial trampoline in the 1940s. His "tumbling device" was granted a U.S. patent in 1945. In World War II, the military used trampolines as training devices for pilots who handled difficult air maneuvers in combat. Near the end of the war George Nissen met a pilot named Scott Carpenter who had gone through the trampoline training. Carpenter would later become one of the original Mercury 7 astronauts and introduced the trampoline into space training at NASA. Together, George Nissen and Scott Carpenter would eventually create a game for astronauts using specially modified trampolines. Carpenter called it "the best conditioning exercise for space travel." Naming the game "Spaceball" was an obvious choice. Combining elements of volleyball and basketball, bouncing players try to put a ball through a hole in a net. If your opponent fails to catch the ball, you get a point. Behind each player a special Spaceball trampoline tilts vertically on each end so in addition to bouncing on your feet, you are able to fall backwards and rebound just as easily. The game combines aerobic exercise and manual dexterity with balance and body control, offering a great workout.

One group of female gymnasts who trained at Ann Arbor Gymkhana became well known in the niche world of Spaceball competition. (See advertisement below.) In 1965, four of these gymnasts traveled to New York City for a Sports Illustrated photo shoot covering the sport. "Like astronauts in orbit, the aerial gymnasts on these pages counteract the force of gravity as they volley the ball in a fast-moving new game called Spaceball." The photos displayed the gymnasts, clad in bright red leotards, on Spaceball trampolines.

The Fitness Business

Behind the athletic success and good vibes of Ann Arbor Gymkhana was the stark financial reality of running a business. Despite his hard work, and the enormous support he gave local athletes, Don Botsford rarely turned a profit. In a 2001 Ann Arbor Observer article, the grim details were shared. According to Botsford, he earned just $5,800 in his first year of business and "didn't make anything". His income in 1959 was $1,200. In 1960 it was only $268. In 1961 Ann Arbor Gymkhana finished in the red with a loss of $246. Don shared that the business had about 200 regulars in its heyday, during the 60s and 70s. Thousands came to take trampoline lessons, casually jump, or play Spaceball, but "the numbers never added up". Ann Arbor Gymkhana was often crowded in the winter, but summers were lean. As a married man with four children, he worked multiple jobs outside of the fitness center to make ends meet. Sign painter, bookstore clerk, and selling hot dogs at A&W were all on the list.

Despite the financial struggle, Don Botsford was committed to keeping Ann Arbor Gymkhana open. He wasn't in it for the money, he was simply passionate about fitness. In 1965, he added a sauna - the first public sauna in Ann Arbor - to the building. In 1967, Ann Arbor Gymkhana doubled in size and enlarged shower and locker rooms. In 1971 the interior balcony was extended to make room for selling health supplements.

Other fitness centers were starting to appear in the area, which took customers away from Ann Arbor Gymkhana. In 1974 a million dollar Vic Tanny health club was opened in Ann Arbor. It featured cardio equipment, a swimming pool, Finnish saunas, whirlpool mineral baths, handball and paddleball courts, sun & steam rooms, special diet plans, and lots of instructors. Vic Tanny advertisements featuring women in bikinis were a level of business competition that Ann Arbor Gymkhana had never seen before. Don Botsford's facility still appealed to children, but many local adults left him behind for the flashier new businesses in town. He decided that his business must grow with the times, and began to design a new dream facility.

Unfortunately, a new Ann Arbor Gymkhana never came to be. After numerous attempts to secure the funds needed to build a state of the art fitness center, Don Botsford finally closed his business in 1986. Ann Arbor Gymkhana was just shy of 30 years old. He went on to pursue other ventures, namely a nature preserve on the edge of the city, but nothing had the spark of the original Ann Arbor Gymkhana. Botsford never gave up on his commitment to bring the public a form of fitness that was fun. His obituary, published in 2011, mentioned "He was still actively instructing trampoline and spaceball at the time of his death".

The Andrea Fulton Concert Collection includes over 500 photos from local concerts featuring rock, soul, R&B, and blues bands performing, recording, and sometimes just posing for promotional shots. Several local and regional bands from the late 1960s and 1970s are here in Andrea's collection -- from Guardian Angel, Carnal Kitchen, and the Mojo Boogie Band to Sixto Rodriguez, Mitch Ryder, and Bob Seger. 

Andrea Lee Fulton grew up with music from all cultures and genres. The first music she heard -- on the day she was born -- was Bach. She recalls an enlightened and exciting childhood: "My dad was hip, my mom was groovy. We all kinda became hippies together.” 

So it was no surprise that when rock-n-roll came to Ann Arbor, Andrea was all ears. And as she grooved to the music, she picked up a camera. Her father, Doug Fulton, an editor at the Ann Arbor News, was an accomplished photographer, so photography was in her blood. Most of the photographs in the collection are Andrea's; a few are Doug's. (Additional concert photos are available in AADL's Doug Fulton Online Exhibit.) 

While Doug is best known for his photographs of outdoor environmental activity and the blues greats who came to the Ann Arbor Blues & Jazz Festivals, Andrea was on the scene in the 1970s to snap photos from the backstages and front rows of over 100 concerts. Andrea (then known as Andye) also worked for concert organizers as a Psychedelic Ranger to assist with crowd control, parking, security, and first aid. At 17, legendary Ann Arbor concert promoter Peter Andrews hired her as the box office manager for Daystar Productions where her job included picking up tickets at the airport, selling seats in the Michigan Union, and manning the box office at Hill Auditorium or Crisler Arena. Andrea recalls some highlights from this period:

"I remember getting cheeseburgers for Yoko Ono, burning one with John Prine behind the P. Bell, and the night Bonnie Raitt stayed in my bedroom after one of dad's famous all-night BBQs following the Sunday Blues Festival. I’ve seen Bob Seger a dozen times. Mitch Ryder. The Rationals. The Lost Planet Airmen with Commander Cody. SRC. Savage Grace. The Up. MC5. I hung out at 1510 Hill Street [home of the Trans-Love Commune, John Sinclair, and the MC5], and was friends with the Mojo Boogie Band, brothers Jim & Terry Tate, and sax genius, Steve Mackay. Venues included the 5th Dimension, Flood’s, Flicks, and the West Park Love In’s at age 15. That was my Ann Arbor life! I was so in the moment and had no idea how incredible my life was. So I’m grateful to have these images now. Revisiting my young self 55 years later, I can tell you -- I’m still that rock and roll hippie at heart.”  

Browse the Andrea Fulton Concert Collection

Some of the subjects of these photos aren't recognized by us and are beyond our ability to identify. If you recognize a performer or venue, please add a comment to the photo to help enrich this collection!