06/15/2026
๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐๐ผ๐ผ๐บ๐๐ผ๐๐ป ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐๐ถ๐๐ฎ๐น
๐๐ผ๐ ๐ง๐ต๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐ป-๐ช๐ถ๐น๐น๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ช๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐ป ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐น๐ฎ๐ถ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐ป๐๐ผ๐ป ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฅ๐๐ถ๐ป
โ The greatest comeback of this struggling Lake Charlevoix community wasn't sparked by industry or its famed ferry. It came from a family of Chicago women whose story reshaped a town โ then slipped quietly from memory. โ
๐ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ป๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ป ๐๐ฎ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฟ๐น๐ฒ๐๐ผ๐ถ๐
Long before industry arrived in Ironton โ just seven miles south of Charlevoix โ it was little more than forest, and a cluster of pioneer farms along and inland from the South Arm of Lake Charlevoix.
That changed in 1879, when young Chicago entrepreneur Robert M. Cherrie arrived with a plan to build a monumental pig iron furnace and lumbering operation on this isolated shoreline โ then an unnamed corridor in the wilds of Charlevoix Countyโs Eveline Township.
Construction of the Pine Lake Iron Company began in the summer of 1880, and by early winter of 1881 the first blast of the new furnace roared to life.
The stack towered nearly forty feet above the shoreline, a four story industrial monolith fed from a wooden ramp leading to its top. In time, more than forty charcoal producing kilns rose around it to fuel the smelter.
Masted schooners crowded the cove-side wharf, bringing ore from the Upper Peninsulaโs Menominee Range near Escanaba, ninety five miles away.
Ironton stood on the brink of an industrial transformation that would soon redefine the region.
๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐ง๐ผ๐๐ป, ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ผ๐บ๐บ๐๐ป๐ถ๐๐, ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฟ๐
From a visionary plan on paper, a new village came to life around the furnace in little over a year.
Newcomers arrived from near and far to the growing settlement. With the establishment of a federal post office in January 1881, the settlement received its official name: ๐๐ฟ๐ผ๐ป๐๐ผ๐ป.
New community and industry demanded reliable ferry service across the South Arm, which was brought under county oversight in October 1883.
By 1886, the community had taken full form. Land was cleared, new homes were built, and workers, tradesmen, merchants, a blacksmith, a sawmill, an apothecary, a school, two churches, and two hotels filled what had once been forest and fields.
For a brief period, Irontonโs population was poised to overtake Charlevoixโs โ and the furnace complex stood as the largest single private investment in water bound industry in the county.
The Pine Lake Iron Companyโs general store became the largest and best stocked in the Lake Charlevoix region.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ โ๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐ป๐ถ๐ฐโ
But the great industrial experiment failed almost as suddenly as it had begun.
The nationwide financial collapse, the Panic of 1893, struck the Michigan iron industry hard, and Irontonโs furnace went cold along with others across the country.
The townโs brief surge came to a halt, and what had been the countyโs most ambitious industrial venture was no more.
By late 1894, creditor foreclosures placed the companyโs assets into receivership, most eventually sold at public auction on the steps of the Boyne City courthouse.
Ironton did not empty overnight, but its purpose had vanished. Businesses struggled, families moved away, and the furnace buildings fell into decay and collapse.
๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ฑ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ถ๐๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ช๐ผ๐ฟ๐ธ
The consequences of the companyโs failure fell heavily on Robert Cherrieโs sisters โ Sarah Cherrie Adams, a widow entering her sixties, and unmarried Eliza, a few years older.
Both were genteel, โpatricianโ ladies who for years had made their regular home in Chicago and had invested their fortunes in the Pine Lake Iron Company.
When the company collapsed, the lives they knew unraveled. Their money disappeared and the land surrounding the shared family home in Ironton was swept into foreclosure.
For the first time in their lives, the sisters faced the need to work to support themselves and shoulder responsibilities they had never expected.
Their first response was survival. They opened their lakeside home to summer guests, taking in boarders to earn enough to live.
But Ironton was hardly suited for vacationers. The nearby furnace grounds were a jagged โquarryโ of iron spillings and sharp slag glass. Views were marred by abandoned wharves, crumbling kilns, collapsing worksheds, and the towering furnace stack.
Where others saw abandonment and industrial ruin, the sisters envisioned something small but new โ a quiet guesthouse retreat at the mouth of the South Arm.
๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฝ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ฎ๐ถ๐๐ต
Somehow, their idea worked โ opening the way to a larger vision: an idyllic summer resort community.
In 1899, after several difficult seasons, they scraped together the funds to buy the foreclosed property back from the bank. What had once been the industrial heart of Ironton was now in their hands โ not as passive investors, but as business leaders determined to build a secure future for themselves.
Cleanup began immediately. Contractors from Boyne City dismantled the kilns. Wagonloads of slag and iron spillings were hauled away. The old worker dwellings โ rough, utilitarian structures โ were repaired and adapted as guest cottages.
From these beginnings emerged the storied Sweet Brier Farm resort.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฆ๐๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐๐
By 1901, the transformation was unmistakable, and the success of Sweet Brier Farm began to outrun the sistersโ ability to manage it alone.
Sarahโs stepdaughter, Eva Adams โ an aspiring artist and still living in Chicago โ arrived to help during the summers.
Through their determined work, Sweet Brier Farm grew into a nearly eighty acre summer colony along the South Arm. A long wooden boardwalk traced the shoreline and connected the resortโs many cottages. Groomed pastures rolled gently toward the water. At the center stood the former Pine Lake Iron Company general store โ now the community hall, dining room, and social heart of the resort.
Guests returned year after year, some eventually purchasing the places they had once rented.
As Eliza and Sarah grew infirm, Eva gradually assumed full direction of Sweet Brier Farm and moved to Ironton full time. Through these years, Eva set aside a promising artistic career and a once exciting city life to care for her aging stepmother and aunt while leading the business with renewed energy and creativity.
Eliza died in 1914, and Sarah โ long an invalid โ in 1921.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐น๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฆ๐๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐บ
By the early 1920s, under Eva Adamsโ enthusiastic guidance, Sweet Brier Farm entered its most vibrant era.
She managed the grounds, welcomed guests, transformed the communal hall into a public Tea Room, and created an increasing number of jobs for local residents throughout the year.
She is remembered as a woman of exceptional personality, culture, and skill โ able to manage a business, charm guests with unmatched conversation and hospitality, and still find time to paint.
Through all its changes, Sweet Brier Farm remained as decidedly rustic as Ironton itself. There was no indoor plumbing, no electricity, no telephones. Instead, guests found bucolic lakeside summers: hand pumped wells, artesian springs, kerosene lamps, home cooked meals, fresh farm products, fishing expeditions, and hayrides. Many workers came from the ranks of local farmers, and their families.
Simple cottages bore playful names like โBonnie Brier Bushโ and โUneeda Rest.โ
What it lacked in โcity conveniences,โ it more than made up for in the atmosphere guests came to cherish.
As one longtime summer resident later wrote, Eva developed a summer colony at Ironton that would never again be matched.
๐ ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ป๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐ป ๐๐ฟ๐ฎ
By 1925, after more than a decade of devoted care for others, Eva Adams chose to claim a life entirely her own.
She sold Sweet Brier Farm and moved into Charlevoix in 1926.
Then, in 1929, at the age of seventy-four, she found lasting love and marriage with the Reverend Frederick Sass, a longtime minister in Charlevoix, where the couple made their final home.
Eva died there on January 6, 1943, at the age of eighty eight.
๐ช๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป๐
In the 1950s, the grounds of Sweet Brier Farm โ once the Pine Lake Iron Company property โ were subdivided into residential lots.
Today, the memory of the resort lingers in the quiet neighborhood that occupies its former acreage, its name preserved in the subdivision and in the boardwalk-aligned streets that still reflect the layout of the pioneer era town of Ironton.
In 2023, an archive of Eva Adamsโ cherished Sweet Brier Farm photographs surfaced in the attic of her former home on Michigan Avenue โ images forgotten and unrecognized for eighty years.
Their discovery returns a lost era to living memory.
Today, the legacy of Eva Adams and the Cherrie sisters still echoes quietly beneath the streets of Ironton โ a story of determination, resourcefulness, and revival that helped guide the community from its scarred industrial past into the modern era.
๐ฆ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐
If you have photographs, documents, or family stories connected to early Ironton, please share them below. Even one unknown image โ like the rediscovered archive from Evaโs attic โ can reshape what we know.
Stay tuned for more Ironton history โ other forgotten and inspiring stories to come.