Good Natured: Mussels, buttons and the Fox River

Editor’s note: This is a rerun of a column that first appeared in January 2011:

Well, I popped a button.

This should come as no surprise, given the way food in general, and fudge in particular, has been in abundance these past few weeks. But as I looked at the broken disk, and searched for a suitable replacement, it got me thinking about buttons. Not so much the cheap plastic kind we have today, but rather the so-called “pearl” buttons that were common long ago. And they, of course, got me to thinking about the freshwater mussels in our own Fox River.

If this were 100 years ago and one of us popped a button, the replacement we’d reach for wouldn’t have been made of plastic. It likely would’ve been made of mother-of-pearl or, less fancifully, the shell of a freshwater mussel.

Back then, mussels were harvested by the bucket load, and boatload. Entrepreneurs called clammers, and sometimes industrious kids (you could earn about a penny a pound), collected the bottom-dwelling, filter-feeding creatures by hand – and by hook.

Those in it for the “big money” would attach four-pronged “crowfoot” hooks to a bar, then drag them along a river bottom. Mussels embedded in sediment, shells partially opened for feeding, would instinctively clamp shut when the hooks touched their sensitive edges.

Back on the riverbank, the mussels were removed from the hooks and sorted. Those deemed suitable for button-making were steamed open. The “meat” (an often gritty mass sometimes used as pig feed) was removed, and the cleaned-out shells were then shipped to a button factory for processing. In our area, the largest such facility probably was the Rehbehn Brothers Button Factory in Yorkville. It was on the south side of the Fox River near what is now the Route 47 bridge.

If you happen to find yourself by the river in Yorkville, downstream of the bridge, take a look along the shore and in the water. Even today, 100 years after the pearl button industry boom, it’s still possible to find freshwater mussel shells with uniform circles punched out.

I’ve got a few of these punched-out shells, which we use at the park district in our aquatic ecology and Fox River programs. But, even when not teaching, I’m apt to have a shell or two handy, just because I think they’re really cool. For me the shells, for one, symbolize the struggle of the button cutters – who, on a good day, might be able to cut 100 pounds of shells and produce 3,600 button blanks. It was messy work, and kind of dangerous too. They were paid by the piece, and were penalized for excessive waste – that is, not getting enough blanks from a shell. Six-day work weeks consisting of 10-hour days might fetch a week’s paycheck of $20. Granted, these weren’t horrible wages for the times, but they were definitely hard earned.

Our button shells to me also represent the struggle of the mussels themselves. As if it wasn’t enough that their lot in life is to be bottom-dwelling filter feeders, these critters also bore the added burden of over harvesting. Only the very smallest bivalves escaped capture; the rest were turned into buttons.

With no limits on mussel takes, it isn’t surprising that the Fox River clamming industry went bust just a few short years after it boomed. Although the thinking at the time was that the river was simply becoming too polluted (another sad but true circumstance), the fact remains that too many mussels were taken. Only recently have their populations grown, although estimates are that they will never attain the numbers they once had.

So, did I ever get a new button sewn on?

Well, no, not yet. But I did find some more button shells in a bowl on my dresser. A few ancient blanks too. Oh, and some turtlenecks I forgot I bought last winter. They’re warm and soft and, best of all, button free.

• Pam Erickson Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.