Kevin Casey, son of James “Jim’ Casey and grandson of William “Bill” Casey, now owns the camp along with his three sisters, Kelly, Cindy and Cathy. Bill came in possession of the camp and the surrounding property in 1925.

“My grandpa was a barber in Escanaba. A salesman came by – or a realtor – and said, ‘I have 80 acres for sale up in Northland for $100. Would you like to buy it?’ and my grandpa said, ‘Sure!’,” Kevin Casey said.

Three other men in 1925 went in on the property’s deed, which is displayed in a wooden frame in the camp. Kevin has had his name on the deed since he was a teenager, and his sisters were added once his father’s health began to decline.

While it has been in the family’s possession for 100 years, Kevin noted it could be much older. The building was already on the property when his grandpa came to own it.

The century-old camp owned by the Casey family is packed with character - honoring the guests and hunters that came before the younger generations who now own the camp and the 80 acre property it is seated on.

In fact, the camp used to be a landing spot for transporting logs in the area with tracks belonging to the Escanaba and Lake Superior Railroad. The tracks are no longer on the property, but they were there for a time when Kevin’s grandfather, Bill, owned it.

“They’d bring all the logs right here and the train would come and pick up the logs and bring them to the Northland bar,” Kevin Casey said.

Bill, who has since passed, and his friends would even use a pumper truck to get to his camp when the train tracks were still there, according to Kevin. Pumper trucks were often available at the Northland Bar back in the day.

Certain camps seem to retain the spirits of all those who came before – those who sat at the kitchen table playing poker, cooked venison roasts and prepped deer meat for the freezer.

The Casey camp has that feel.

The Casey family came to own the 100 year old camp in 1925 when a salesman — or realtor — approached Kevin Casey's grandfather, Bill. Bill enthusiastically bought the 80 acre property for $100, and three other men went in on the sale, all of whom have since passed. The original deed is neatly framed and kept at the camp. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)

The camp is off the grid, without power and has spotty cell reception. There is one outdoor and one indoor outhouse. While guests now can use propane instead of wood to heat the camp, that switch was only made six years ago.

The area does have other camps, but none as old as the Casey’s.

Kevin tells his family’s stories well and with passion. He pointed to a particular armchair in the corner.

“My dad – before he passed away – that was his favorite chair. He would sit here and go, ‘I really want a moose to walk across this field before I die.’ He passes away, and a moose walks across. So, I’m thinking maybe it was him,” he said.

Kevin’s father, Jim, spent much of his time at the camp. Jim and his wife – Casey’s mother – Marcella “Marcy” Casey were married for 68 years and lived in Wells.

Kevin Casey and his sisters recently marked a century of the family owning the Marquette County camp. Kevin's father, Jim, spent lots of time at the property, especially in his favorite chair. He would look out into the large field out the camp window and watch for wildlife, hoping a moose would walk by, Kevin said. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)

The family has no shortage of heartfelt experiences made in the camp.

“My first buck would be my first cherished memory at the camp from when I was 15, I think, and then getting engaged is another. And having my daughter up here when she was a baby,” Kevin said.

“My mom told me this before she passed … she said ‘Your first time up here, you were 5 or 6 months old, and your first bath was in the sink.’ Not my first bath, but first bath up here. “We didn’t have a sauna back then, so she’d dump us in the sink – all six kids,” Kevin said. Then when my daughter got up here, I thought, ‘She’s getting a bath in the sink.'”

Kevin’s only daughter, Kelly Mae, who lives in Green Bay with her boyfriend, will own the property in the future.

Photos of his daughter, relatives and guests are hung throughout the camp. Kevin pointed to a wall where several are displayed.

While the Casey family camp is 100 years old, it still has the same basic layout it did in 1925 but for a few modifications and additions, like a sauna outside. Kevin has a photo of the camp from many years ago on display. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)

“There’s almost all of our pictures of deer seasons. We have good years and bad years. Some years we don’t have any (deer) on the pole and some years we do – depends on if they (hunters) all can get out of bed in the morning after a night out at the Knotty Pine,” he said.

That same wall with all of the family photos almost went up in flames 40 years ago.

After Kevin worked a second shift on Thanksgiving eve, he headed up to camp to spend the holiday with his family.

“By the time I got up here on Thanksgiving, my mom and dad were already sleeping. We had a wood stove right here, and my dad left the vent on the bottom open. This whole wall was all smoldering. The whole camp was full of smoke, and they were both in bed. I come walking in, like, ‘Uh oh,'” he said, adding the camp probably would’ve burned down had he not arrived at that moment.

The wall now bears no signs of the fire.

The Casey family has a wealth of unique stories its 100-year history with the camp. This wall caught fire 40 years ago on Thanksgiving Eve after Kevin's father, Jim, left the bottom vent open. Kevin arrived home before the fire could spread, which most likely saved the camp from destruction. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)

One particular story Kevin continues to tell guests is when the camp was broken into during his grandfather’s time.

“It’s easy for them (trespassers) – there’s nobody around. We had another guy break in, and he left a note. My grandpa always told me about this – he broke in, and he was lost. He broke into camp, and my grandma had canned goods. So he got something to eat, he slept, and he left a long note saying, ‘I will pay you back. I’ll find this place again.’ And he did.”

Another trapper who was lost near the camp also broke in – possibly sometime in the ’60s. He left his duffel bag on the gate’s chain at the entry of the camp, and inside of the duffel bag was a gun – a trapper’s gun. That gun has been displayed on one of the camp’s walls since it first appeared.

“We’ve been probably broken into, like, 20 times since this camp has been here,” Kevin said.

The door – which Kevin thinks was made with cedar – has been replaced after being kicked in by uninvited guests.

The camp has gone through multiple updates and slight renovations but still has the same layout it did back in 1925, Kevin said.

One addition to the property was a sauna in 1970. Kevin and his fiancée, Julie, got engaged there 55 years later.

Both came up for a New Year’s Eve party in 2024 at her cousin’s camp nearby. After the party, they retreated to Casey’s camp for the night.

“So, I went to go take a sauna, and I’m in there taking a sauna and all of a sudden (Kevin) lets the dog in, who is my pride and joy, and the dog has a little pink band around its neck. I’m like ‘What is he doing?” Well, the ring was around the little pink ribbon. It was cute,” Julie said.

Kevin’s sister and brother-in-law were there that night as well. The camp has hosted hundreds of people in its past. They even accommodated 180 people and 25 campers for their recent 100-year anniversary party.

He also built a bunk house near the camp for him and his fiancée so he can let guests have the beds and couches inside the camp.

Richard “Dick” Casey, who is Kevin’s uncle, owns another camp on the property, which was built around 1950 to accommodate all the family’s guests, like those who gathered to play poker.

Men — strangers and friends, including wealthy lawyers and doctors — would come for miles to play poker at the family’s camp, especially when Bill was around. The region had no casinos at that time, he noted.

“They’d have so many guys here. One of my grandpa’s buddies told me he was gambling here and he said, ‘There’d be guys walking out of here with trucks, you know, titles to trucks.’ One guy walked out and he said, ‘I bet you he had $20,000 in a garbage bag.'”

Much like the people who gravitated towards the family’s camp, hundreds of deer migrate down from northern Michigan through Kevin’s property and into Cornell in the late fall and winter. He refers to this as “the migration,” when deer search for more vegetation to eat during the colder months.

“If you catch them on a good day – like if it’s right at the end of hunting season – you can see 200, 300 deer go by your blind in the morning. It’s just like watching cattle,” he said. “I’ve experienced it – in my 35 to 40 years of hunting, I’ve experienced it twice, and it was amazing.”

Bill Casey, Kevin Casey's grandfather, was one of four original owners of the Casey family camp. Since Bill bought the camp in 1925, hundreds of family members and guests have shuffled in and out of the space. Guests would sign their names and write a little note to the family in Bill's log book, which is neatly preserved today. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)

Strangers and family members came from all over the region to visit the Casey family camp for meals, hunting and poker games. Some of the guests included baseball players like Frank House, catcher for the Detroit Tigers; Hal Newhouser, pitcher for the Detroit Tigers; Art Houtteman, pitcher for the Detroit Tigers; and more. (Sophie Vogelmann | Daily Press)