police officer.
Kosciusko’s Creighton Brothers Hatchery produces more than 3.2 million dozen eggs per year. Because of this industry’s large output, the Warsaw and Mentone area is known as the Egg Basket of the Midwest.
This is a story about the “big one” that got away—and it’s true!
It was the summer of 1956. Henry was ready for a day of sport fishing at Silver Lake, twelve miles south of Warsaw. He wasn’t ready for what got hooked on his light tackle.
He had chosen a spot on the north end of the lake, where other fishermen in the vicinity were all intent on a pleasurable day of angling. Henry contemplated catching a few good-sized bluegills. Around 9 AM his line received a strong tug, indicating that he had a pretty large fish to reel in. He didn’t realize this tug was going to result in nearly fourteen hours of battle between man and fish, and that the fish would win!
People began gathering on the banks as it became apparent that Henry had indeed caught himself a big one. They wanted to be there when it finally was landed to see what type of fish he’d caught. Would it be a record catch?
The battle between man and fish continued with speculation and verbal bets traveling through the groups that continued to gather and swell as the day wore on. WRSW began broadcasting news about the intense struggle going on at Silver Lake, capturing the imagination of thousands of listeners across northern Indiana. People jammed the switchboard, phoning in their own fish stories or suggestions as to what kind of fish, or thing, Henry had caught. The story and pictures were front-page news for the Warsaw Times-Union.
Several curious folk drove to Silver Lake to watch the struggle. Members of the Lake Conservation Club, the Grant County Emergency Squad, the Silver Lake Fire Department and the Indiana Conservation Department soon joined them. For the fishermen in the crowd the struggle became all that more exciting when they learned Henry was using only a three-pound line. A great deal of skill was required to keep the thin line from breaking.
Henry had been under siege for nearly four exhausting hours when the owner of the Silver Lake resort joined him in his boat and took over the fight, allowing Henry a rest. Henry received word one of his children had become ill and he needed to return home to Warsaw.
The sympathetic onlookers vowed they would not let his fish get away. They would continue the battle until he could return. The president of the conservation club stepped in for Henry, and with the resort owner, he proceeded to wage a nonstop battle with the fish for three more hours.
At that time two other competent fishermen relieved the pair. All in all the fish wore out four pairs of highly qualified fishermen and two nylon fishing lines before the end of the battle.
Seven hours into the battle there were no less than thirty-four boats surrounding Henry’s. The captive fish took them on runs up and down Silver Lake numerous times. At the eighth hour the line finally broke. The alert fisherman at that time, however, grabbed the end of the line as it passed the tip of the pole and he began playing the fish by hand while another spinning rod and line was brought from shore. The pair managed to tie the new line onto the broken end of the original line and in that way were able to continue the fight. The next two hours the fishermen made an unsuccessful attempt to “herd” the monster to shallower water on the west side of the lake.
Henry returned just as night began. The fear of having to give up this struggle was heavy in the hearts of those who’d continued to wage the battle all afternoon until he could return.
The Silver Lake Fire Department rushed an emergency generator and floodlights to the scene and the battle continued. Nearly fourteen hours after Henry had first hooked the monster, the old section of the three-pound line broke for the last time. The battle was over.
Those who’d watched and those who’d fought the battle never once got a look at the fish—or whatever it was. It had never surfaced. There was too much shake and life in the catch to have been a turtle. Some of the characteristics of the fighting fish were those of a dogfish while the powerful runs and actions in deep water resembled those of an enormous catfish.
This is a true story of the “big one that got away.” What it was no one really knows. This story, with its mystery creature, has become a part of northern Indiana’s lake lore.
Perhaps, after all, it was a ghost fish, as elusive as the Manitou Monster or Nessie of Scotland.
Merbrink Cottage
Merbrink was built for love. It still stands today, a testimony to the power of love. In earlier times it was referred to as “The Mystery House.” For many years its doors were locked and its windows shuttered.
The story begins in 1878. John Cooper, an educator from New York, brought his wife and teenage daughter, Nellie, to Evansville where he became superintendent of schools. Three years passed and an illness befell Cooper, who could no longer provide for his family. His wife and daughter began taking in boarders.
One of the first lodgers was William H. Brunning, a thirty-year-old bachelor. He was a partner in his father’s successful tea and spice store, and later, upon the father’s death, became president and sole owner.
Perhaps Brunning fell in love with the young Nellie Cooper and she with him. It is certain that he held a deep affection for the entire Cooper family. Her husband still ill, Mrs. Cooper decided in 1901 the family should move to the popular resort community around Winona Lake. There they opened a hotel named The Homestead, which, though small, became very popular with seasonal visitors. William Brunning was a frequent visitor. One year after they moved to Winona Lake, John Cooper died. Having become attached to all the Coopers, Brunning grieved as if he were a member of the family.
Brunning decided to build an inn at the lake, the Swiss Terrace Inn, and turned the management over to Cooper’s widow and daughter. That same summer Brunning purchased a lake lot. For weeks dredges and drays worked to build out and fill in the area making “Brunning’s Point.” Then he imported carpenters, and the house that was built for love began to take shape.
No expense was spared. It was rumored that Brunning spent over $10,000 to build Merbrink and several thousands more on the exquisite furnishings, including a beautiful piano purchased especially for Miss Nellie.
Curiosity concerning the house led the residents to wonder if it had been built as a bridal gift for Miss Nellie. It was obvious that Mr. Brunning and Miss Nellie had great affection for each other, though no engagement had been announced.
For years Mr. Brunning made regular biweekly visits to Winona Lake. On those occasions he didn’t stay at Merbrink, but spent the weekend at the Swiss Terrace Inn. His appearance on those visits was that as a suitor and an admirer; each trip he’d bring a box of candy for Miss Nellie.
On Sunday afternoons it was the habit of Nellie and her mother to accompany their guest to Merbrink, where they’d spend the day together. On those occasions the villagers, making it their
