by Steve Tomasko
Tom Nelson’s hobby has landed him a place in Wisconsin’s Sesquicentennial
Celebration. Tom, who at 78 has seen a little over half of those statehood
years, is one of a handful of people in the country still building snowshoes
by hand.
A pair of Tom’s snowshoes is now on display in Washington, D.C., and will
travel around the state as part of a “folk art” exhibit.
Although he calls it “just a hobby,” making, repairing and using snowshoes
has been a lifelong passion for Tom. He built his first pair at age 13
or 14, a small model pair built of wood he whittled with old leather shoelaces
for webbing.
Tom, a no-nonsense, straight-talking, quick-witted and friendly man, takes
a lot of pride and care in the work he does. Although he admits to not
getting around as quickly as he used to, his mind runs as sharp as the
blade he uses to cut rawhide for his shoe webbing. His eyes still carry
a bright twinkle when telling a joke or a story.
Tom picked up the moniker, “Old Spyglass,” as a member of the American
Mountain Men Association, a recreational group that replicates some activities
of early 19th century Rocky Mountain trappers. The words “Spyglass, Ashland,
Wisconsin” adorn the crosspieces of the snowshoes he makes.
In the basement of Tom’s house, strips of rawhide hang from the rafters.
Snowshoes hang in various stages of completion and pictures of a younger
Tom and his brother, both on snowshoes, sit on the workbench.
Tom doesn’t think much of the new high-tech aluminum frame and neoprene
snowshoes.
“The old patterns and old materials hold up better than anything else,”
Tom says.
 He
ought to know. Tom shows off a pair of snowshoes he used for almost 40
years and put “many, many, many miles on.” Even though he doesn’t use them
anymore, they still hang in his basement as “old friends” with a sign attached
- R.I.P. 1938-1975.
For more than 60 years, Tom Nelson has cut strips of rawhide and bent wood
to create shoes for walking on snow. Top: Tom’s “old friends” are a pair
of Alaskan-style shoes retired after almost 40 years of service.
Tom was born in 1919 in Hancock, Michigan. In 1926 his family moved to
Munising, Michigan, where he “did most of my growing up and getting into
trouble.”
It was in Munising where the “seed was planted,” he says. Tom went to school
with some kids named Iverson whose dad made snowshoes in his spare time.
That enterprise grew into the Iverson Snowshoe Co., no longer run by Iversons,
but Tom still has a tie with them. Watching his friend’s dad make snowshoes
inspired him to make his first miniature pair.
Tom’s family next moved to Glidden, Wisconsin, where he went to work for
the power company on line crews surveying power lines, often on snowshoes.
“We lived on the doggone things for months,” Tom says.
After a five-year stint in the army during World War II, Tom came back
to Wisconsin, got married and eventually settled in Ashland where he’s
been since 1951. He started his own surveying and engineering company now
run by his son.
Tom began repairing and making snowshoes off-and-on in the 1950s. He didn’t
get really serious about it until he retired in 1982.
Straight grained northern white ash is the wood of choice for snowshoes.
Other woods are too brittle, Tom says. And ash is traditional, too. He
used to bend his own frames, a process of fitting the wood into molds and
steaming it to shape it. He found it cheaper and more efficient to order
his frames from Iverson Snowshoes of Shingleton, Michigan, the company
started by his old mentor.
He orders whole cowhides and cuts them into strips for webbing. It takes
him an entire day to cut up a hide. Black Angus is the best, Tom says,
because of its uniform thickness. Strips of rawhide hang in bundles from
the rafters, waiting to be woven to the ash snowshoe frames.
He learned the pattern of weaving the rawhide from an old pair of Tubbs
snowshoes. Tom says it looks more complicated than it is. To get the webbing
tight, he wets the rawhide strips then pulls them as tightly as he can.
When they dry, they’re tight.
Tom finishes his shoes with three coats of marine spar varnish. He says
it’s resilient and is better than other varnishes or shellacs.
The demand for his shoes varies from year to year, often depending upon
the amount of snow. In his best year, Tom says he sold about 65 pairs,
but he usually sells only half that many. Tom puts about 16 to 18 hours
of work into each pair of shoes.
Tom makes different styles of snowshoes, including Maine, Cree, Yukon and
Bearpaw. He says the Cree is “one of the nicest shoes you can get.” While
he makes an occasional pair of Bearpaws, he doesn’t really like them.
 “They’re
useless,” he declares. But he keeps some on hand for people who really
want that style.
Tom also crafts smaller styles for kids - the “Mite” and the “Cub.”
Snowshoes come in various shapes and sizes to fit the needs of the wearer.
MARK “SPARKY” STENSAAS
The adult-sized shoes go for $165 plus $40 for bindings that Tom also makes
by hand. The Mites and Cubs sell for $90 and $125 respectively including
hand-made bindings.
Tom says he “would dearly love someone to carry on the tradition” of crafting
snowshoes. But he has yet to find a willing apprentice. It would take five
or six months, he says, for someone to learn the techniques. Not to mention
years to perfect.
For now, though, Tom keeps at his passion with a mixture of pride, humor
and humility.
Says Tom, “I’m one of the few left in the upper Midwest who carries this
foolishness on.”
For more information on Tom’s snowshoes, write Route 1, Box 53, Sanborn
Ave., Ashland, WI 54806
Steve Tomasko writes for The Daily Press in Ashland, Wisconsin.
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