It was once possible to walk inside the Old Dutch Mill that stands majestically on the grounds of the Mt. Emblem Cemetery at the intersection of Grand Avenue and County Line Road in Elmhurst. In so doing, it was also possible to take a time-trip back to 1850 when, after three years of the most painstaking work, the windmill began to perform its intended task, to grind grain into flour at a rate of, depending on the wind’s force, 20 to 40 barrels a day.
The mill was built for a man named Henry Fischer after he took over part of a larger farm owned by his father Frederick, one of the area’s original settlers.
He later sold the land and by 1916, the windmill’s work was done. It sat there, surely destined for destruction, until 1925, when it and the surrounding property were purchased by the Mt. Emblem Cemetery Association, which wisely decided to keep the mill.
And there it has stood, a five-story reminder of what the land was for before it was turned over to shopping centers, housing developments, golf courses, interstates and parking lots; before a generation of kids could be heard asking, “Farm? What’s a farm?”
Reconditioned periodically, the mill was for many years open to the public and was a popular spot for picnicking, wedding party photo sessions and classroom field trips.
Due to the structure’s age, the mill has been closed to visitors for more than a decade. That’s a shame because its interior is a feast of old-world craftsmanship.
But for its stone foundation, each piece of the mill and its machinery was hand-fashioned from cypress, white oak and hickory. You can see a bit of this wooden wonderland in Osgood’s photo, which features the cemetery’s groundskeeper, Rick Dujka.
The mill’s handcrafted innards are almost as intriguingly mysterious as, and considerably more artful than, the interior of the U-505 submarine, recently back on public display in swanky new high-tech digs at the Museum of Science and Industry.
But even from a distance, the mill is a marvel and more than one person we know has swerved off the road trying to catch a long look. A delicate and evocative structure, it is one of the area’s singular sensations.
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rkogan@tribune.com
