Travel, History & Culture in America's Dairyland

Fish Frys

In fact, the Argus is located in Madison’s oldest commercial structure, dating to 1847 when the community was swampy village of 1,166 people. The building’s first tenant was The Wisconsin Argus, one Madison's first daily newspapers...

-- from the book Classic Wisconsin Weekends.

Short, beady-eyed man
There is a short, beady-eyed man who loves to hang out at the Argus.

Even though the old tavern claims, “Everybody is Somebody at the Argus,” the diminutive patron likes it here because the opposite is true for him: Nobody knows he’s an influential public official; nobody knows about the bribes, the disgrace, the years of exile; nobody wonders why he always wears a hat.

classicwisconsin has favored the Argus since 1988 when developer Cliff Fisher restored much of the building’s 19th century workmanship and opened the doors to the now-popular watering hole. Today, Todd Dukes is the Argus’ amiable owner and the best pig roaster in town.

It’s the Argus’ historic character -- and characters -- that makes the place what it is today. Cool pictures of old Madison hang on the walls, some include the Argus building itself. Take a gander at the ancient brickwork in the basement, or say howdy to your legislator, who can probably be found underneath the bar. 

Back in the mid-1800s, the building at 123 E. Main housed a local newspaper, the Wisconsin Argus, the namesake of today’s establishment. Over the years the upstairs was occupied by fraternal lodges, the main floor held a bakery and succession of bars, and the basement was a Turkish bath and steam room.

Wisconsin Governor Coles Bashford
It was during pitch-black evenings in the mid-19th Century that Wisconsin Governor Coles Bashford would amble from the state Capitol to read the next morning’s newspaper as the ink-stained printers peeled the Argus broadsheets off the press. 

The headlines weren’t looking good for Bashford in May 1858. An investigation revealed that he had taken a $65,000 bribe to approve a land grant for the La Crosse & Milwaukee Railroad Company. Legislators grabbed $400,000 for themselves. When the investigative report was printed, nearly every copy was hijacked by the corrupt politicians and burned. 

Public outrage soon boiled over, and Bashford fled the state one step ahead of the tar-and-feather wagon. He settled in Tucson, Ariz., where he wallowed in anonymity, a fate worse than death for a politician.

Time has largely forgotten Wisconsin’s greatest political scandal just as it has forgotten the age when every man wore a dress hat. The spectral image of a short, beady-eyed man in the bowler goes unrecognized. 

Maybe the old brick patio reminds him of the days of yore. Maybe the happy hour makes him happy again. Maybe he’s searching for the old printing press that marked his downfall. 

For those of you living in the here and now, remember this… everybody is somebody at the Argus, and if you catch a glimpse of Coles Bashford sipping a pint of Gray’s Honey Ale, leave him alone. He suffers a fate worse than death. 

classicwisconsin note: Only a single copy of the 1858 La Crosse & Milwaukee Railroad Co. bribery investigation exists in the Wisconsin Historical Society archives. 

The Books

Features

Links

Home  |  The Book  |  Fish Frys  |  Features  |  Links

Copyright 2002-2008, Michael Bie (Classic Wisconsin)

Contact classicwisconsin

Site by Shadow 5 Productions