The
Howard Temin Lakeshore Path is one of the crown jewels of the Campus
Natural Areas and has had a long history. Around 1890 the University
of Wisconsin-Madison campus ended at Willow Creek (then called
University Creek) and all the land west of the creek was in private
hands. There was only a narrow dirt track from Park Street to the
creek, accessible by horse or on foot.
Madison Park and Pleasure Drive Assocation
In the early 1890s a group of civic-minded Madisonians,
spearheaded by attorney John Olin, initiated the construction of
Lake Mendota Drive over the private land west of Willow Creek.
To avoid building a bridge over the creek, the proposed route was
across the sand bar several hundred feet out in University Bay.
(This sand bar still exists.) However, the UW Board of Regents
did not want to see any of the Bay filled and agreed to help fund
construction of a bridge across the creek.
The road was made wide enough so that two teams of
horses could pass side by side. The total cost, made up by subscription,
was $6,904.50.
The new road was a great success and spurred the
establishment in 1894 of the Madison Park and Pleasure Drive Association
(MPPDA). (Information on the MPPDA comes from the annual minutes,
which are available in several UW libraries.) This organization
went on to build Farwell Drive in Maple Bluff, parts of Sherman
Avenue, and others. In addition, this Association built many of
the major parks of the city, including Tenney, Brittingham, and
Vilas. The Association finally went out of existence in the mid
1930s when the Parks were taken over by the City of Madison.
Noted Chicago landscape architect, Ossian C. Simonds,
was brought in to lay out the plantings for the MPPDA. Willows
were planted along part of drive, and these grew up to form an
attractive shaded canopy. This part of the drive then became known
informally as "Willow Walk."
UW Land Purchases in the University Bay
Area
In 1911, John Nolen's famous book, Madison: A
Model City, made a plea for the University of Wisconsin
to establish a first-class botanical garden and arboretum. He
noted that the university is:
happily situated at the border of open country, farm
land, and forest. This adjacent property could now be purchased
in great tracts on relatively reasonable terms...[the State] could
make no better investment than...the acquisition at once of several
thousand acres along the shores of Lake Mendota, immediately west
of the present boundary...[and] all the way to Eagle Heights (Nolen,
1911).
This recommendation, together with the College of
Agriculture's interest in wetland farming, led eventually to the
purchase of the wetlands surrounding University Bay, as well as
the George Raymer farm (Eagle Heights Woods, North Shore Woods
and the Eagle Heights Apartments area), and ultimately Picnic Point
and the Breese Stevens farm (now Frautschi Point).
The property now called Anglers' Cove was a noted
location in the nineteenth century. Its owner, George Raymer (a
member of the UW Board of Regents) donated this land to the Park
and Pleasure Drive Association in 1902. He stated: "My purpose
in doing this is to secure for the future this grove as one of
the beautiful points on the drive" (MPPDA Minutes, 1902, page 28)
.
Arrival of the Automobile
Although the west end of the Lakeshore Path was built by citizens,
the university portion between Park Street and Willow Creek was
apparently never "planned," but just allowed to develop. Before
the automobile, it was open to horses and teams as well as walkers.
In the early 1900s, the Park and Pleasure Drive reluctantly opened
its roads to auto traffic and the university also permitted automobiles.
In those early years, there were few autos and they had little
impact. About 1937 the university closed the eastern part of the
Lakeshore Path to autos.
In 1957, the UW Board of Visitors recommended that
the route be opened to autos again, but opposition to autos on
the Lakeshore Path developed quickly. "A major fear of the road's
opponents is that the drive would hardly fail to become a thoroughfare
for homeward-bound Madison residents who find University Avenue
too crowded and the central campus drive too hilly" (Capital
Times, March 23, 1957). The Board of Visitors countered
that "public access to Lake Mendota has diminished greatly
over the years, and reopening of this traditional drive would bring
much satisfaction to the residents of Wisconsin" (Ibid.)
. Certain faculty mobilized opposition and the Campus Planning
Committee rejected the idea of autos on this portion of the path.
The Board of Regents asked the two committees to meet and "bring
in a mutually acceptable" plan (Wisconsin State Journal,
April 28, 1957). Fortunately, nothing came of this proposal.
However, automobiles were permitted for many years on the middle
section of the Lakeshore Path, from Elm Drive past Willow Creek to
Walnut Street . By the 1970s, this section was one-way for autos,
but two-way for bicycles. This arrangement became increasingly problematic
and when a bicycle fatality occurred near Willow Creek in the mid
1980s, it became clear that the road here was too narrow and automobiles
were banned.
After the Forest Products Laboratory was opened in
1930, Walnut Street was constructed from University Avenue to the
laboratory and eventually to Lake Mendota. The far west part of
the Lakeshore Path then became a major transportation route. Due
to conflicts between pedestrians and automobiles, a second road
was added around 1919, parallel to and about 10 feet west of the
original road. About this time, the name "Willow Drive" replaced
"Willow Walk" for this section (McCabe, R., 1974, A
Niche in Time,
unpub. ms.).
In 1998 the path was dedicated as the Howard M. Temin Lakeshore Path
in honor of the Nobel Prize-winner who was a Professor of Oncology.
For many years, Temin had travelled the path to and from work. The
Lake Mendota shoreline "was more than simply part of his morning
commute; it was a bearing check for the human compass. Whether biking...or
slogging on foot...the slight, boyish figure of the university's
most distinguished scientist was a reliable sight as he traversed
the quiet lakeside path" (Devitt, T., Wisconsin Week, Sept.
9, 1998).
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