Category: Wisconsin

What’s in a Name?

This article originally appeared in a 2003 edition of the Wisconsin Maple News

What’s in a name?  The naming of a place is an important ways to differentiate between areas and tell one another in as few words as possible a great deal of information such as what a place looks like, where it is located, and who lives there.  There is also nostalgia to place names, telling of people’s use of the landscape in the past.  Maple sugaring is one such activity that has not escaped the attention of place-namers and mapmakers.  Within the states where maple syrup and sugar are or were made, the naming of places after maple sugaring appear most common in Wisconsin and Minnesota.

In Wisconsin, place names containing the words maple or sugar are found across the landscape.  With our tradition of naming high points and low spots, we have landforms such as Maple Hill in Sauk County and Maple Bluff in Dane County; and Maple Dale in Vernon and Sugar Grove Valley in Sauk County.  The name Sugarloaf is found on high places in La Crosse, Green Lake, and Jackson Counties, and Maple Ridge is a popular name in the southwestern counties of Crawford, Pepin, Richland and Vernon.  Sugar Camp Hill in Douglas County is named for a prominent stand of maples tapped in the past, while Sugarbush Hill near Crandon continues to be tapped by members of the Forest County Potawatomi Indian Band.

Townships and villages with names like Maple Grove, Sugar Island, Maplewood, Maple Heights, and Maple Plain are scattered across the state.  Too numerous to name are the roads and lanes containing the title maple or sugar.  Every community has a few, and a few more are added every year.  Less known, but locally very significant are off the beaten path places, such as the Sugarbush Bar located east of Park Falls in Eisenstein Township, named for the nearby location of a former Ojibwe sugaring site.

Rivers and streams such as Maple Creek, Sugar Creek and Sugar River often refer to maple sugaring that took place on their banks in the past.  Sugar Camp Creek in Oneida County and the Sugarbush Creeks in Vilas and Ashland County connect to many of the Sugarbush Lakes.  Maple Lake, Sugar Maple Lake and Sugar Lake are found in the northern counties of Vilas, Oneida and Rusk, but it is the lakes with the names Sugar Camp or Sugarbush that tell us the most about the history of maple sugaring on the landscape.  Be they the Upper, Middle, or Lower lakes of the Sugarbush chain on the Lac du Flambeau reservation, or the Sugarbush Lakes in Bayfield, Washburn, Polk, and Ashland Counties; their names reflect the importance of the maple history in those places and the historic connection many Native Americans have to the lands of northern Wisconsin.  To this day, Ojibwe Indians tap the maple trees around Sugarbush Lake on the Bad River reservation in Ashland County and Upper, Middle and Lowe Sugarbush Lakes on the Lac du Flambeau reservation, just as previous generations have every spring.

When the place name mentions the camp or bush, we can be confident that the origins and meaning behind a that place name really refers to the making of maple sugar and is not only a reference to the species of trees in the area.  For example, the village and Township named Sugar Camp in Oneida County received their name from the former Ojibwe village in this area.  Early townsfolk from Rhinelander were known to travel to the Indian settlement to purchase maple sugar made nearby by the Ojibwe residents.  As a result, the name Sugar Camp stuck.  At the turn of the century, newly arrived white residents established a town site named Robbins in the same location, but the long held traditional name of Sugar Camp hung on, even though by the 1930s all of the Ojibwe residents had moved to the reservation at Lac du Flambeau.

Sometimes, the place names come from the words for maple sugaring in Native American languages.  Such is the case in Minnesota with the community of Chanhassen, a suburb of the Twin Cities.  Chanhassen comes from the Sioux Indian word of “canhasanpaha”, meaning hard maple hill.  The Ojibwe Indian word for maple sugar “ziinsibaakwad” a name found on two lakes in Minnesota on the Leech Lake Indian Reservation.

While the state’s Indian population has played a prominent role in the naming of sugaring locations in Wisconsin, not all maple related place names are named for Native American maple sugaring activity.  In particular, the village of Sugar Bush in Brown County was named for the maple sugaring activities of local Belgian settlers.

Not surprisingly, the places with names that are clearly identified as former (and in some cases current) maple sugaring locations are most commonly in the northern half of the state.  Likewise, most of these places are within or very near to the state’s present Native American communities, attesting to their continuous use of the same sugarbushes and long-standing tradition as practitioners and originators of the art of maple sugaring.  Perhaps, in the future many of the sugarbushes of today’s non-Indian maple producers will be remembered by their own place names on the landscape?

Matthew Thomas. “What’s in a Name?” Wisconsin Maple News, 2003, vol. 19, number 1, page 17. 

The Central Evaporator Plant in Wisconsin Maple History

This article originally appeared in a 2005 edition of the Wisconsin Maple News.

The 1940s and 1950s were a time of invention and innovation in the maple industry.  One of the innovations brought to the industry by Wisconsin was the Central Evaporator Plant.  Initiated by Wisconsin’s own Maple King, Adin Reynolds, the Central Evaporator Plant operated like a cheese factory in which maple sap, like milk, was transported from a variety of sap producers to a large processing facility where sap was combined and converted into maple syrup.  As with the cheese factory where milk producers were paid based on the butterfat content of their milk, sap producers were paid based on the sugar content of their sap.

The Reynolds family had always been maple producers, making syrup and sugar from maple trees in their own sugarbush.  But in 1946, Adin Reynolds decided to greatly expand his production and he had a novel idea how to do it.  He began in 1947 by building a new sugarhouse next to his house, not far from State Highway 45.  He then solicited farmers near his Antigo home to tap their maple woods for sap and deliver it to his sugarhouse, where they were paid based on the percentage of sugar per gallon of sap.

According to his son, Juan Reynolds, Adin had no problem convincing area farmers to sell their sap.  Located near the intersection of Langlade, Shawano and Marathon Counties, the countryside around the Aniwa plant is marked with dairy farms interspersed between stands of second growth sugar maples.  Moreover, the months of March and April were the slow and muddy seasons for most farm families.  Farmers had the two most important components for sap production – trees and available labor to tap and gather.

Reynolds’ Aniwa operation quickly grew, expanding from two to three evaporators in 1949 to four evaporators in 1962 making syrup from 75,000 taps.  Other maple producers followed Reynolds’ lead, and with his advice and equipment sales set up their own Central Evaporator Plants in the area.  Notable among these were plants run by George Klement in Polar and Sidney Maas in Tilleda.  Reynolds later purchased the Polar and Tilleda plants, along with another Central Evaporator Plant in Kingsley, Michigan.  At their peak in the mid-1960s, the Reynolds Sugarbush was making 30 to 40,000 gallons of syrup a year from at least 160,000 taps on 14 evaporators in these four Central Evaporator Plants.

Another Central Evaporator Plant went into operation in 1962 in Price County near the village of Ogema.  Ray Norlin and his brother-in-law Louis Motley expanded their small operation to 2800 taps and began to buy sap from 7,000 more taps making as much as 3000 gallons of syrup a year.  A portion of this syrup was sold in bottles and cans under the label Sunny Hills Maple Syrup; however, the bulk of it was sold wholesale in barrels to Reynolds Sugarbush.

 

Image of Ray Norlin’s Central Evaporator Plant near Ogema, Wisconsin in the mid – 1960s.

Although he was the most successful Central Evaporation Plant operator, Adin Reynolds was not necessarily the first maple producer to buy large volumes of sap in the late 1940s and early 1950s.  To the west in Central Minnesota, the Holbert Brothers also instigated a sap buying program in 2947 for their Mille Lacs Maple Products Company.  Although the sap buying and syrup making portion of his business was short lived, ending in 1950, Sherman Holbert’s operation was very large for the time, processing sap on two large evaporators from as many as 20,000 taps in the Mille Lacs Lake region.  Holbert also developed a Midwestern market by buying large volumes of bulk syrup to be sold to General Foods for the Log Cabin brand of blended syrup.  Holbert left the maple business entirely by 1953, opening the door for the Reynolds Sugarbush to assume the large General Foods bulk syrup contracts.

Over the course of the 1950s word of the Central Evaporator Plant and its successes in Wisconsin spread among maple producers in the northeast and New England states.  In the traditionally larger maple producing states like Vermont, New York, and Pennsylvania, sap buying was generally unheard of at the time, especially on the scale being carried out in Wisconsin.  But by the 1960s, , the Central Evaporator Plant, along with plastic tubing and the invention of the antibacterial paraformaldehyde tap hole pellet, was one of the hot topics of discussion among industry leaders.  In fact, C.O. Willits, the maple syrup industry’s leading researcher wrote that “the current trend toward central evaporator plants has marked a new era in the maple industry”.

The growth of the Reynolds Sugarbush empire and the purchase of additional Central Evaporator Plants in 1960, 1963, and 1965 was in large part a result of the contract Reynolds secured with General Foods Corporation in 1959 to supply thousands of gallons of syrup for the making of Log Cabin brand table syrup.  In order to meet General Foods demand, Reynolds Sugarbush produced tens of thousands of gallons of syrup and purchased many times more gallons of bulk syrup from Wisconsin producers and across the maple producing regions of the United States and Canada.

Through the 1950s and 1960s, the popularity of the Central Evaporator Plants, along with Reynolds Sugarbush’s promotional efforts and syrup buying program led to a significant increase in the production of maple syrup in Wisconsin.  Production grew so much that, by 1970, Wisconsin moved into position as the third greatest syrup producing state behind Vermont and New York.  It comes as no surprise that the idea for the Central Evaporator Plant was born in Wisconsin.  As the most prominent dairy state in the country, most of Wisconsin’s rural residents in the 1950s and 1960s were familiar with the organization of the dairy industry and cheese factories and took to the concept readily.  Likewise, many sap producers were dairy farmers and had both the equipment and technical knowledge needed for moving large volumes of perishable sap.

Reynolds later closed the Polar plant and sold the Kingsley, Michigan and Tilleda plants back their owners in the early 1970s.  Sidney Maas continued to operate the Tilleda sugarhouse as a Central Evaporator Plant through the 1980s on sap from 8200 of his own taps and sap purchased from 5000 additional taps.  In 1993 Maas sold the sugarhouse to Charlie Wagner who had developed a successful syrup operation near his home in Peshtigo and wanted to expand.  Aware of the sap buying history of the operation and the available sap resources in the area, Wagner revised the sap buying program, convincing many of the earlier sap producing families under the Reynolds era to again tap their trees and sell their sap.  Today, the Tilleda plant uses reverse osmosis and two large oil fired evaporators to make syrup from as many as 40,000 taps, over 90 percent of which is purchased sap.  The Tilleda plant is particularly notable in the history of Wisconsin maple production.  With nearly continuous syrup production since Sidney Maas built the sugar house in the 1940s, the Tilleda sugarhouse has the honor of being one of the oldest continually used sugar houses in Wisconsin, it is one of the largest U.S. sugarhouses by volume west of Maine.  In addition, it is probably the oldest Central Evaporator Plant still in operation in North America.

Only a handful of sugarhouses that follow the plan of a Central Evaporator Plant operating primarily or entirely on purchased sap, still exist in the U.S.  However it is not uncommon for commercial producers to augment their own sap supplies with some sap purchased from neighbors and reliable sap producers, ultimately the result of an idea that began over fifty years ago in Wisconsin.

Matthew M. Thomas. “The Central Evaporator Plant in Wisconsin Maple History.” Wisconsin Maple News, December 2005, volume 21, no. 2, page 10.

Sugarbush Archaeology

One interesting and important way to understand and tell the story of the history of maple sugaring is through the remains of past sugaring operations. Recording and investigating these sites and artifacts from maple sugaring’s past falls into the realm of what I like to call sugarbush archaeology.

For many folks when the idea of archaeology is brought up they immediately think of studying past human behavior before the time of written records, and that certainly covers a lot of the focus of archaeology. However, archaeology is not solely limited to the pre-writing segment of human history and also includes consideration of our material remains from more recent periods in time.

Just about everyone that has spent any time in or around a sugarbush which has been in use for a few generations or more is probably aware of the location of an old sugarhouse or boiling camp. If it is fairly recently retired or abandoned, it may be a standing ruin or relic, but if it was left many more years ago, chances are it has been reduced to a simple scatter of twisted metal, an irregular foundation or collections of stones, or a mounded patch of ground in the woods. Those remains are now artifacts and features of an archaeological site. The heritage of sugarmakers is certainly preserved in things like the photographs and collections of antiques and ephemera that line the wall of many sugar houses. But there are other artifacts, sometimes very big artifacts, of maple sugaring that we can also preserve and learn from.

While there are some written records describing early maple sugaring activities, the further one goes back in time, the fewer and fewer records there are and what is written is generally lacking in detail or description. For example, in the western Great Lakes region in earlier times when Euro-Americans were still settling the land and access to use of the woods was more open and with fewer limits, it was not uncommon to set up a sugarbush and boiling camp where ever it was deemed best. This may have been private land, it may have been unclaimed public land, it may have been tribal land or even tax forfeiture land.

Photo of nested kettles in abandoned Native American sugaring camp.

Today, archaeologists find a variety of sites in the forest that mark the past location of all sorts and scales of maple sugaring, from the simplest boiling camp that may have been a single kettle used for one season to the former location of a sugarhouse that contained multiple evaporator where thousands of gallons of syrup were made each season.

Most of the work being done that identifies maple sugaring archaeological sites happens on federal, tribal, state, and county lands where there are rules in place directing land managers to look for archaeological and historic sites like these and take those places into account when managing those lands. But maple sugaring sites are all over, and there are undoubtedly many many times more sites on private lands and in current sugarbushes that any of these public lands.

Photo of the unloading ramp and sugarhouse at the Grand Island sugarbush shortly after abandonment.

I’ve worked for many years as a field archaeologist in the woods of northern Wisconsin, Michigan and Minnesota and have recorded dozens and dozens of maple sugaring sites. Most of these sites were the remains of small short lived boiling camps with simple stone and earthen arches and an associated scatter of metal artifacts.  But every now and then there was an opportunity to work with a more substantial site. For example one interesting site was the remains of the Cleveland Cliffs Mining Company’s sugarbush on land now managed by the Hiawatha National Forest on Grand Island in Lake Superior off the shore of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

 

Photograph of the remains of the sugar house on Grand Island from east side of site looking west.
Map of archaeological remains of Grand Island sugaring camp.

The company operated a commercial sugaring operation for xx years before they closed shop and abandoned everything in place in 19xx. Unlike a lot of sugarhouses, when they closed they just walked away and essentially left the evaporators and equipment behind. I was able to photograph and map what was left of the decaying sugar house which was presented in a 2003 article in the Michigan Academician.

Other researchers have also looked at maple history from the lens of the archaeological record, with two notable publications being Keener, Gordon and Nye’s 2010 article on the Petticrew-Taylor Farmstead in Ohio and David Babson’s 2011 doctoral dissertation on late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century sugaring sites in Lewis County, New York.

While the study of abandoned commercial sugaring sites is fascinating, a great deal of my attention has been spent working on identifying and understanding the remains of sugaring activities associated with Ojibwe and Potowatomi Native American communities from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Most people who are less familiar with those Indian communities, including sugarmakers from New England, are often a surprised to learn that maple sugaring continues to be an important part of the seasonal activities of Indian people into the twentieth century. This is in part a legacy of the Indian maple production being a subsistence activity for family and community consumption and largely operating outside of the mainstream  realities the mainstream market economy. It is also a relic of a government assimilation policy that discouraged Indian people from continuing their traditional gathering activities, often forcing Indian people to quietly carry out their sugaring.

Map of remains of Native American boiling arch at McCord Indian Village in northern Wisconsin.

While working as an archaeologist for the Lac du Flambeau Ojibwe Band in northern Wisconsin we recorded dozens of abandoned sugaring camps both on and off the reservation. A great deal of this research was published in an article in 2001 in the Wisconsin Archeologist which presented an overview of the kinds of sites we were finding and the material remain left behind like metal cans, pails, birch bark containers, and metal and wood taps for sap collection as well as kettles, chains, and hooks for boiling sap.

Map of remains of storage structure and associated artifact scatter at Lac du Flambeau sugar camp LDF-081.

 

Learning as much as we could at the sites at Lac du Flambeau was a springboard to being asked to help record and interpret many more Native American sugaring sites in northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Much of that work was presented in a 2005 article in the Midcontinental Journal of Archaeology about the remains of tell-tale U-shaped boiling arches at known and suspected Native American communities.  Both of these articles were largely aimed at helping the practitioners of professional field archaeology better recognize and appreciate this often overlook and misunderstood cultural resource.

Our limited understanding of the history of Indian sugaring has been an important reasons and motivation for me to focus on recording and interpreting these sites. There are many of non-Indian archaeological remains of sugaring to investigate as well; however, the supporting documentation and historical information related to those sites is a bit more robust. Also because many of the Euro-American sugaring sites were established on lands that continue to be held in private ownership, often as sugarbushes to this day, they may be in a better position to be preserved and protected.

When talking about the early years of maple sugaring in North American, curious and knowledgeable people invariably bring up the question of who made maple sugar first, Native peoples or the Euro-Americans and Euro-Canadians that came to the new world. That’s a very interesting question and one that archaeology should be able to help answer. Wading into the origins debate, as I refer to it, is a curious topic and not unlike opening up a political can of worms.  People are very sure of what they have come to believe is the truth, regardless of what evidence they are presented. However, I will save my thoughts on that topic for the moment and dedicate another post to tackling that in the future.

What is important to consider and appreciate in looking at and managing a stand of maple trees, be it a current or past sugarbush and on private or public lands is that the the land has a story to tell. Often times this story is not recorded any where else and may no longer even remain in the minds and memories of those that worked those woods. What looks like trash or ruins does have meaning if you look at it from a certain light. Likewise the old roads, fence lines, scarred trees, and signs of different cutting histories and forest management are part of the unwritten record of sugarbush archaeology. Where we can we should take the time to consider, document, learn from and maybe even preserve what remains of the past years of sugaring.

 

REFERENCES  CITED

Babson, David W., “Sweet Spring: The Development and Meaning of Maple Syrup Production at Fort Drum, New York.” (doctoral dissertation, Syracuse University, 2011).

Keener, Craig S, Stephen C Gordon, and Kevin Nye, “Uncovering a Mid-Nineteenth Century Maple Sugar Camp and Stone Furnace at the Petticrew-Taylor Farmstead in Southwest Ohio.” Midcontinental Journal of Archaeology 35, no. 2 (2010) 133-166.

Thomas, Matthew M., “The Archaeology of Great Lakes Native American Maple Sugar Production in the Reservation Era.” The Wisconsin Archeologist 82, no. 1 (2001) 75-102.

Thomas, Matthew M. and Janet Silbernagel, “The Evolution of a Maple Sugaring Landscape on Lake Superior’s Grand Island.” The Michigan Academician 35, no. 2 (2003) 135-158.

Thomas, Matthew M., “Historic American Indian Maple Sugar and Syrup Production Boiling Arches in Michigan and Wisconsin.” Midcontinental Journal of Archaeology 30, no. 2(2005) 299-326.

 

The Era of Plastic Sap Collection Bags

Prior to the modern method of collecting maple sap with flexible tubing there was an earlier attempt to put plastic to use as sap collection bags. The first reusable plastic sap collection bag was invented by Everett I. Soule of the George H. Soule Company the well-known maple equipment manufacturers out of St. Albans, Vermont. Following the Soule Company’s primary brand name for their King evaporator, when the bag came on the market it was sold as the King Sap Bag.

Clip from a 1956 advertisement for the Soule Company King Sap Bags.

Everett Soule began developing and experimenting with his bag idea in the mid-1940s and by October 1950 had perfected a design for a 13 to 15-quart bag that was then distributed to Soule Company equipment dealers around the country for sale and first-time use in the 1951 sugaring season.

The King bag was made of a transparent, heavy plastic called vinylite that was said to be the same material used by the Air Force for the packaging of food and water drops to soldiers. The bags were simple to use and did have the advantage of being cheaper than new pails and covers and when flattened for storage took up considerably less room than an equal number of pails. The top had an open flap that allowed one to pivot the bag on the spile to empty the collected sap without taking the bag off the tree, at least in theory.

Examples of the uniquely shaped clear plastic King Sap Bags hanging from maple trees very full of sap.

The transparent plastic allowed one to easily see the sap volume in the bag and did allow sun through to provide some ultraviolet light that arguably led to reduced microbial development and clearer, cleaner sap. Use of the bags required one to employ a hookless spile, such as the Soule hookless spout. When first introduced in 1950-51, prices for the bags were for anywhere from 69 to 89 cents each for lots of 100 or more with 100 Soule spouts also available for $8.00. Although these were said to be made of a durable plastic that could withstand the extreme weather conditions of the tapping season and the significant temperature fluctuations, it was still early in the use of plastics. The late Bob Coombs informed me that the cost of the King Sap bag was actually more like $1.25 a bag and they tended to get brittle and crack and split after a season.

Everett I. Soule’s 1960 design drawing for Canadian patent 598853.

Everett I. Soule obtained a patent in Canada for his sap bag (CA 598853) in May of 1960, but it does not appear that a US patent was ever secured, despite marketing language of patent pending. At the time of his invention, Everett I. Soule was the president of the George H. Soule Company, having taken over as president in 1938 following the death of his uncle and company founder, George H. Soule in 1937. Along with his brother Raymond L. Soule, Everett continued run the family owned company and himself became a prominent individual in the maple industry for many years. Following his death in 1964 the Soule Company was sold to Leader Evaporator Company, including the manufacturing and sale of the King Sap Bag. Under Leader’s ownership the printing on the exterior of the bag was changed from George H. Soule Co. to Leader Evaporator Co., Inc.

Initially, the maple industry showed great enthusiasm for this radical invention and introduction of plastics, then a post-war technological wonder that was sweeping the world. In an industry that previously was limited to wood and metal, plastics showed great promise, but it was the arrival of flexible tubing at the end of the 1950s that a meaningful shift in technology was to come.  The King Sap Bag continued in production into the late 1960s, but by the 1970s it was essentially abandoned.

Image of Reynolds Sap Sak in use. Photo credit: www.mapletapper.com

However, another variation of the plastic sap collection bag came along a few years later and has had a more lasting impact, especially among backyard sugarmakers and hobbyist. Unlike the reusable King Sap Bag that was washed, dried and stored at the end of the season, this bag was a single season disposable model that hung on a metal frame. Invented by Adin Reynolds of the Reynolds Sugarbush in Aniwa, Wisconsin in 1958 the Reynolds Sap Sak first became available for commercial sale in 1966.

Design drawing from Adin Reynolds’ 1967 United States patent 3,304,654.

The Reynold Sap Sak was distinctive with its bright blue bags, although it is possible to use a clear plastic bag as well.  Unlike the King Sap Bag, the Reynolds bags were simple, thin and very inexpensive plastic bags that were designed to be thrown away at the end of each season.  The thinner bags were a little more prone to splitting when the sap froze on cold nights and squirrels were known to gnaw through a few corners, but the extremely low cost of bags made the occasional installation of replacement bags acceptable. Like the King Sap Bag, the Reynolds Sap Sak also worked best with a hookless spile, since the metal cover was designed for fit over the spile and have its weight supported directly by the spile.

Front cover of 1967 equipment supply catalog from Reynolds Sugar Bush prominently presenting the Reynolds Sap Sak.

The Reynolds Sugar Bush initially promoted their bag through their Wisconsin equipment dealership and in 1967 Adin Reynolds was awarded a patent for this invention. In time, with its popularity and demand it began to be carried and supplied by nearly all maple equipment dealers. The Reynolds Sap Sak is still sold and in use across the U.S. and Canada but probably sees greatest use in the upper Midwest where it was first introduced. It is also possible that for the smaller scale producers not choosing to use tubing there is less of a concern for appearance or a romanticism about the aesthetics of sugaring in Wisconsin or Minnesota or Michigan that one might find in New England and a blue plastic bag is a perfectly acceptable way to gather sap.

References

“Everett I. Soule,” The Burlington Free Press (Burlington , VT) August 17, 1964, 9

“Everett I. Soule Takes New Post,” The Burlington Free Press (Burlington, VT) January 4, 1938, 6.

“George H. Soule, Leader in Maple Industry, Is Dead,” The Burlington Free Press (Burlington, VT) May 10, 1937, 2.

“J. Elmer Lepley Sells Plastic Maple Sap Bag,” The Republic (Meyersdale, PA) October 26, 1950, 2.

R.C. Soule, “What is New in Maple Sirup Equipment”, Report of Proceedings of the Conference on Maple Products (Philadelphia, PA, 1950) 28-29.

Lynn H. Reynolds, Reynolds, Maple and History: Fit for Kings, (Reynolds Family Trust: Hortonville, WI) 1998.

“Sap Bag is New Wrinkle in Maple Sugar Industry,” Battle Creek Enquirer (Battle Creek, MI) April 16, 1951, 14.