Bath Massacre: America's First School Bombing

Thirteen - Tulips

Chapter 13 TULIPS After the Columbine and Virginia Tech shootings in 1999 and 2007, respectively , shooting victims, families, other students, and school faculty and staff members were offered counseling, understandably and with compassion. They had lived through an inexplicable hell. Psychological help was a merciful balm. On May 19, 1927, in Bath, people simply went back to work. Many of them had no choice. Crops needed tending; cows must be milked; other animals required daily care. Farm life does not allow for a day off regardless of the circumstances. Solace is found in quiet moments working the ‹elds or at church on Sunday mornings. Though all the victims were pulled from the ruins of the north wing, the debris remained. Throughout the summer volunteers worked hard removing rubble. Children pitched in, pulling nails out of broken timbers . Curious visitors, on day trips to see the remains, carted away bricks and other relics. Many families stayed in Bath. It was their home. Others could not live with the memories lingering throughout the town. The glimpse of a child, a former playmate of a murdered son or daughter, was too much to bear. Wagons and trucks laden with furniture and families leaving 157 town were common sights, though rarely discussed. One survivor observed that Bath “was almost a ghost town for many years.”1 Cleanup work continued throughout the summer. It was a dirty, exhausting task, moving rubble for disposal while salvaging anything that could be used in rebuilding the school. It was also dangerous work. Despite the hundreds of pounds of explosives removed in May, caution was paramount. No one wanted to take a chance on setting off any unexploded dynamite hidden beneath the rubble. It was a smart move. On July 19, workers found amid the ruins a sack of dynamite and a kerosene-soaked rug. A ventilator was packed with mounds of small wood shavings, shoved inside for use as an accelerant.2 One month later another cache of explosives was discovered. The wellwrapped bundle contained 244 sticks of dynamite, more than two hundred pounds’ worth. It was carefully concealed beneath the ‹rst ›oor not far from the ruined north wing.3 158 BATH MASSACRE Fig. 18. Women and children removing nails from salvaged beams of the damaged building. (Courtesy of the Bath School Museum.) There were no newspaper reporters on the scene when the children of Bath returned to school in the fall. For a village still in deep shock and mourning, this was a blessed relief. With the school under repair, the children needed classrooms. The one-room schoolhouse model was not an option; children and their parents relied on a central location. The Lansing School Board generously offered “free of charge” education for the upcoming year, an offer that was eventually turned down. It was vital that Bath move forward. Although the school building was unusable for the time being, learning would continue.4 Downtown Bath became a campus of sorts. Students met on all three ›oors of the Community Hall where just a few months before some of their peers were laid out in a temporary morgue. Classes were held in the grocery store, drugstore, barbershop, ‹rehouse, barns, houses, garages, and of‹ces. With a little imagination and coordination, just about any space could be transformed into a classroom. The annual return to school, however hodgepodge it was, represented newness, that wonderful feeling that returned every September. In Bath, the annual ritual held deeper signi‹cance. Friends were gone. Not quite 14 percent of the school population was killed on May 18. Children who walked to school didn’t always take a direct route to their new classrooms; many took out of the way jogs to avoid the ruins of Bath Consolidated. The wounds—some physical, many psychological— needed time to heal. Willis Cressman’s classes met in the grocery store. Getting to class was simple enough: enter the store, walk around the pickle barrels and rows of dry goods, take a seat, and begin learning. One windy day, in the middle of a lesson, the classroom door slammed shut. A loud bang! resounded off the walls like dynamite. Cressman jumped out of his seat and instinctively ran for the door, pumping his legs furiously. He didn’t know how he got out of the building , but somehow he was safe on the other side of the street. He stopped, caught his breath...