The courthouse Crystal Falls (says it) stole

When Iron County was carved off from Marquette County in 1885, the new county needed a seat, and it had two young mining towns to choose from: Iron River on the west side, Crystal Falls on the east. Iron River got the nod as the temporary seat — and what happened next is the most cheerfully retold piece of larceny in the Upper Peninsula. The documented part is real: county records really were spirited out of Iron River’s makeshift courthouse by men from Crystal Falls. The rest is the stuff of legend, and even the city itself admits it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.

But oh, the legend. As the story goes, the Crystal Falls men arranged a high-stakes poker game at Iron River’s Boyington Hotel to keep everyone occupied after a county board meeting. Two of them — a township supervisor and the county treasurer himself — pretended to turn in for the night, slipped out into twelve-below cold, emptied the courthouse safe onto a sled, bribed a friendly railroad conductor, and spirited the records east by boxcar, hiding them away until things cooled down; some tellings say in hollow pine trees, others say down the Mastodon Mine. Iron River woke up furious, mass meetings were held, and an army of citizens reportedly considered taking the records back by force — but cooler heads prevailed, and in 1889 a county-wide vote settled it for good: Crystal Falls would be the seat.

The town made the title permanent in brick and stone. The Iron County Courthouse, finished in 1890-91 by a Green Bay architect named Clancy, crowns the hill at the head of Superior Avenue like a small castle — reddish-brown brick, a clock tower and a turret, polished stone columns quarried from the Paint River itself, and seventeen-foot statues of Law, Mercy, and Justice standing watch over the valley. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, it’s been lovingly restored, and it remains one of the most photographed buildings in the U.P. — a courthouse with a poker story it will happily tell you.