Martin Viebrock was an older brother of Frank and a half bother of John {Hanus} L.D. told me that they were some kind of distant cousin of the Fred Viebrock family. The family lived on what is now the Johnson Place. Martin was never one to do any more than was absolutely necessary. He would go down into the marsh along the river and mow the marsh hay .Most often the owner of the land was glad to see it taken off. Martin would take it to town and sell it to buy spirits. This soon gave him the name of "Marsh Hay" that stuck with him the rest of his life. In later years he lived in the Spring Lake area., Eventually he lived on 130th Ave between Leonard and M104. He was often seen on the road with a gunny sack over his shoulder on his way either to town { to replenish his supply of spirits} or returning home. He would try to hitch a ride with anyone who would stop. Many people passed him by as he seldom took a bath. Only about once a year and then only on the odd years.

      No story of Spoonville would be complete without a couple of paragraphs about John Viebrock To fit him in with the other Viebrocks, he was a brother of Fred Viebrock, the one who lost his legs in the mowing machine accident. At one time John owned the 40 acres across 120th Ave from the school. He was married to the sister of Sam Easterly's wife or Forest Easterlys mother. She died young, so John led a bachelors life for as long as he lived. His easy going nature made him a natural to work with bees and there hives. Always on the look out for wild bees and there hives in hollow trees. his method of discovering a tree was to watch for a lone bee on a flower and sprinkle its wings with flower and then follow its slow travel toward the nest. if he lost it he would start over with another bee in the area ever getting closer to his goal. One time he asked my father to accompany him to a tree to get the honey. I tagged along. It was on a neighbors land and he did not have permission to go after it so I was sworn to security. The hive was near the bottom of a hollow trunk so a saw was used to cut into the tree above and below the hive and a smoke was blown into the hive to deactivate the bees. with an ax and wedge a block of the trunk was removed to expose the hive. It was a rather large one and nearly a wash tub of honey was removed. The block of wood was then fitted back into its place and from a distance it would be hard to see that the tree had been touched.

      On a Sunday morning it would not be uncommon to see Mr./ Viebrock coming down the road with a package under his arm that usually held a box of honey. When he showed up the Housewife would add another plate to the table for Sunday dinner. The afternoon was spent telling stories of bygone days. All of which I listened to as there was no television in those days . I only wish now that notes would have been made because a lot of local history has been lost by my poor memory. The small children all loved him as there was always a little sack of peppermints in his pocket that he would share with them. In his later years he took up residence with one family after another, usually one of his relatives. He died at a ripe old age

      On a hill along the River bank at the mouth of Crockery Creek sometimes known as Point Lookout a man took up residence by building a shack. He was known as Jones, Little is known about him, only that he came from back east possibly Connecticut. Rumors had it that he was a fugitive from justice and that he had committed a capitol offense possibly murder.

      He sustained his living fishing and trapping , much of which was also illegal. In other words he lived off the land. Occasionally he would pull a stranded log out of the river and sell it for cash.

      His trade before coming to Michigan was that of a gun smith. People would bring their guns to him for repair and he would charge so much that many of the guns would be left rather than pay the price. His walls of his cabin was filled with those guns. This earned him the nickname of Gunlock Jones. He had fashioned a tin snake around the smoke pipe of his stove. When the air currents from the stove came up the snake would rotate as though it was climbing the stove pipe.

      He started fruit trees that he had grafted himself and had all of the modern varieties of the time, some of which were there until just a few years ago. I would make my trips around the area when I was young just to fill my pockets with whatever apple that was ready for picking. Mr. Jones also started his own variety of potatoes by taking the seed from pods that sometimes comes on a vine. My dad says that it took him several years but the result was that he had nice potatoes even though they might be off color including red and purple.

      Every Friday was bake day for Mrs. Fred Viebrock. She would always make an extra loaf for Mr. Jones. He would arrive in the evening with a gun in one hand and a lantern in the other. If a rabbit should show himself he would shoot it to add rabbit to his supper of fresh bread.

      All the boys of the neighborhood made their way to his shack on week ends, It is said that he introduced most of them to chewing tobacco.

      Down underneath he had a cruel nature that would show its self from time to time. To him turtles were an abomination to mankind. as they would become entangled in his fish nets and traps. Any turtle unlucky enough to get in his way usually received a crushing blow from the heel of his boot.

      One time in early spring the boys were at his shack he suggested that they have some fun. Taking a bottle of nitric acid that he kept on hand for his gunsmithing, he took them out to find a black {sleeping john, woods } snake. The air was still cold but the sun was warm and the snakes came out to sun themselves. Because of the cold the snakes moved rather slowly. He would place a drop or two of acid on there head, then step back and wait for the acid to do its work. The snake would thresh around in its agony as the acid burned its head off. To him this was fun.

      In his flock of chickens were two roosters, one a large white one, the other an off color smaller one. The white one was always picking on his smaller opponent. Gunlock suggested that the boys return the next weekend and he would prepare the rooster for a cock fight. During the week he caught the white one and filed his spurs to a blunt round end. The other smaller one he filled to a sharp needle point. When the boys arrived the next weekend they smeared the white one with red ocher paint. When the roosters were turned loose the smaller one thought that a strange rooster had invaded his territory. He went after the stranger and with his sharp spurs soon prevailed over his larger opponent. So you see they had chicken fights in those days two.

      We found the following story in the Coopersville Observer dated April 25, 1885

      A fearful tragedy took place Tuesday afternoon in Crockery Township near Spoonville. A farmer named Hagon, About 23 years old, and a man much respected in the community, went to see a neighbor named Albert {gunlock} Jones about an old claim which Hagon had against him. Jones ordered Hagon out of the house and upon refusing to go, seized a hatchet and struck Hagon a terrible blow, knocking him down in a stunned condition. The force of the blow was so great that the handle of the hatchet was broken completely off. When Hagon recovered consciousness he started out of the house and Jones followed him. Outside Hagon picked up a pike pole and when Jones came at him, stabbed him in the right side, making a fearful hole. Jones went back into the house and got a shotgun and as Hagon turned to leave the premises, fired , the entire charge entering his back just below the shoulder blade. Hagon fell and was taken home, and now lies in a very critical condition, and will probably die. The Neighbors made an attempt to lynch Jones, who is far from being popular and is looked upon as an unpleasant neighbor. He lives mainly by hunting and fishing, and is rarely seen without a gun strapped to his back. Those who know him best say he is a bad man. Sheriff Woltman however arrested Jones, and landed him in jail before anything came of the lynching threats. Jones wound from the pike pole is considered of a dangerous nature.

      Dr. Wright, who was sent for to dress the wound{Hagon's} pronounced it quite serious but not necessarily fatal. {Note: Mr. Hagon survived and went on to live a long life.}

      From the Nunica news-May8, 1885

      Jones the man who shot Hagon, was examined before Justice Picket on Friday last and bound over for trail.

      { As of the time that I am putting this on the computer we have not found anything more about this incident or the trial. Gunlock lived in the area for more than twenty five years after this incident.}

      After the Spoon brothers died and the real-estate had changed hands the new owners attempted to have the squatter Jones removed from their property. But they found out that he had been there to long and under the law he could claim squatters rights. This is where he stayed until his death sometime after the turn of the century. He is buried in an unmarked grave in the Nunica cemetery.

      Martin Luther Fritz brought his family from Illinois in about 1906 or seven , They settled on a piece of property west of Nunica. The land was located on the east side of 120th Ave. across the road from Jablonski's airport. They stayed there for about four years before moving to the river in 1911. Their land took in all of the river bank from Spoonville all the way down to the Government land between Bruces bayou and Grand river. Mr. Fritz raised and marketed garden produce as well as doing the normal dairy and crop operation. He was the first to have an automobile in the neighborhood and was very instrumental in bringing electricity to the Spoonville area.

      He spent many years on the school board of the Spoonville district, until it was annexed to the Nunica school system. In the spring of 1924 a bull gored him in the stomach and he spent the whole summer recovering from his wounds. Later in 1939 in January he had a mishap with a horse that crushed his chest and caused a blood clot that caused his death. His son Fred took over the farm at that time operating it until his retirement, He still lives on the place. The Fritz family consisted of seven children. Ruby; Jerusha {Rushie}; {twins} Frank and Fred; Luther; Marie; and Ruth.

      The farm is now in the hands of the Spoonville Gun Club. They Have built a club house on the property.