Durand 'Norma's Folly' becomes a Michigan landmark Passion and dedication pays off for Union Station advocate

By Sally York The Argus-Press DURAND, Mich. (AP) -- In 1984, Norma Ward met with the manager of Autoworld in Flint, hoping to pick up leads on fundraising sources for her project: restoring Durand Union Station. "You'll never get anywhere with that," the man, whose name Ward no longer remembers, told her dismissively. In an ironic twist, Autoworld -- an $80-million tourist attraction -- went bankrupt within months of opening and has long since been torn down. Durand Union Station, by contrast, has received $2 million through donations, fundraisers and grants over the years and is still going strong to this day. Ward led the charge to save Union Station after Grand Trunk Western Railroad pulled out in 1974 and announced a plan to tear down the building, built in 1903 and rebuilt in 1905 after a fire. She believed it should be preserved as a landmark that distinguished Durand from other Michigan small towns and as an important part of the community's history. Her efforts have been so integral to that cause, the building is affectionately called "Norma's Folly." "If it wasn't for her, I don't think the station would be there," said Inez Bohman, a longtime friend of Ward's and a Union Station volunteer. "Most people would have given up, but she believed in it and wanted to save it." Thirty-seven years later, Ward is still volunteering days, nights and weekends at Union Station, working the phones to recruit volunteers and until recently serving on the board of directors. The grandmother of six shows no signs of easing her pace. "It's a commitment," Ward explained recently. "I don't want to let down the volunteers and people who have given money and so much of themselves. "I joke that when I have my heart attack there, I'll be the ghost of Durand Union Station." In 2009 -- 30 years after the city of Durand paid Grand Trunk $1 for the depot, turning responsibility for the building over to Ward and other volunteers -- Ward was honored at a local "Norma's Folly" party. A few months later, she received a State History Award, presented by the Historical Society of Michigan for distinguished volunteer service. "I felt that I was receiving the award on behalf of all those people who stood behind me," Ward said. "You never do anything alone." Ward vividly remembers the first time she saw Durand Union Station. She was 12 years old, and her parents had allowed her to walk the half-mile from home to mail letters in the station's gold-colored wall mailbox. "To me, it was like New York City," Ward said, gesturing animatedly. "It was the big time. It was so awesome to me, it never left my mind. "I've often wondered whatever happened to that gold mailbox." By the time Ward started attending Durand High School, some of the personality traits that have contributed to her success as a Union Station advocate were in full bloom. "I was always noisy, always talking," she remembered. And in her senior year, Ward was recommended for a volunteerism award for her service on numerous school committees. Something else happened in high school: She became engaged to John Ward, though the courtship didn't always run smoothly. Norma Ward had developed a crush on him when she was 12 and he was a handsome 17-year-old working at the neighborhood grocery store. She'd use any excuse to go in the store -- "just to buy a loaf of bread" -- and catch a glimpse of him. Later, she met him face to face. "I couldn't stand him because he was so egotistical," she recalled. "He was good-looking, and he knew it." Somehow John Ward persuaded Norma to move beyond that first bad impression. The couple were married during one of John Ward's military leaves from World War II, and would go on to have three children together. Norma Ward spent the last 11 years of the marriage taking care of her husband after he developed Alzheimer's. John Ward died in 2001. "He was such a wonderful man," Norma Ward said, tearing up. "He was a gentleman." But he enjoyed teasing his wife, telling people: "My wife is having a love affair." Pause. "With the Durand depot." Norma Ward had intended to go to college, but those plans changed when her father, Harley Huss, died in a motorcycle crash just before her senior year. The tragedy left her mother, Gladys Huss, unable to work. So, while John Ward did a four-year stint in the military, the two women moved to an apartment in Flint, where Norma Ward worked two jobs to support them: at an optometrist's office during the day, and as an elevator operator at night. Ward held other, more lucrative positions -- including at Bell Telephone and Buick -- until John Ward returned from the military and took a job at General Motors. After they got married and Norma Ward had her first child, David, she became a homemaker, taking on a number of secretarial jobs only after her youngest turned 5. In 1956, after the couple had two more children, Dennis and Sue, the family -- including Norma's mother -- moved from Flint back to Durand. Gladys Huss lived with her daughter for 32 years, dying in 1980; and demonstrating that once Norma Ward accepts a responsibility, she sees it through. After Grand Trunk Western stopped using Durand Union Station, Owen Rood, owner of the Durand Express, wrote a column pleading for some organization to take it over. The piece must have planted a seed in Ward: Whenever she is asked today how she became involved with the depot, her answer begins with the words "Owen Rood." But it wasn't until the city of Durand "railroaded" her into serving on a bicentennial committee in 1974, and Ward was named the chairman, and the committee decided to make its historic purpose saving the Durand depot, that her life's major work began. "We got an estimate that it would cost $150,000 to get the depot back in shape," Ward said, adding that vandalism between 1974 and 1979 increased those costs considerably. "We have $2 million in it by now." Because Durand officials were adamantly opposed to sinking taxpayer dollars into Union Station, Ward and her committee launched a two-year pledge campaign. During that period, Ward and friend Ruth Jones would meet the Blue Water Amtrak train that still made stops in Durand, even though the station was closed and had no electricity. Using flashlights and car lights, the pair would guide evening passengers to their cars. By the beginning of 1976, when the committee had raised only $12,000 in pledges, "it was quite evident there was no way we were going to be able to save the depot," Ward said. Donors were told they didn't have to honor their pledges and the group shifted gears, instead opening a museum in a baggage car set up in Iron Horse Park. Ward purchased the car with $1,000 she solicited from 10 committee members. Residents had donated numerous boxes of items for the planned Union Station museum, and the baggage car was a place where they could be displayed. "We wanted people to see that there was a history worth saving here," Ward said. Meanwhile, the city and railroad were embroiled in litigation. The railroad, concerned about liability, wanted to tear down the depot. The city was trying to obtain an injunction to stop the railroad's plan. One day, word came down that the railroad was about to raze Union Station. Ward and her committee were given 24 hours to remove everything from the depot they wanted to keep. Hours into the frantic task, soot-covered and sweaty volunteers were interrupted by a man in a suit from the state attorney general's office. He had come to deliver a message: The city had won an injunction to stop the railroad. An annoyed Ward looked up at the man and said, "Now you tell me." Years later, a retired railroad official whose job it was to see the depot come down confessed to Ward that he was happy she'd succeeded. "I'm glad you're a stubborn woman," he told her. Finally, in 1979, the city bought Union Station from the railroad for a dollar, leasing the property for the same amount per year. Now the onus was on Ward and the other volunteers to raise funds to renovate the station, which by that date was in dilapidated condition, with broken windows. By then, the committee's bank account had a balance of $9. Eventually, grant funds -- including money from Amtrak, which signed on in 1981 to provide passenger services at Union Station -- came in, and Ward and crew began the slow process of restoring the depot. Karen Carsten, who joined the bicentennial committee with Ward and has been a Union Station volunteer ever since, recalled that the facility's bathrooms "had been used long after the water had been turned off." A group of volunteers sporting old clothes set out to tackle the filthy job. "Norma led the way into the bathroom," Carsten said. "She was not the type of person who would tell you to do something. She did it with you. That's the kind of leader she is." Over the years, Ward has initiated a number of Union Station fundraisers, including a farmers market, eventually turning their management over to people "who always improved on my ideas," she said with a sly smile. Mary Warner-Stone, the current director of Union Station, met Ward at a quilt show she put on at the depot 12 years ago. Warner-Stone, who makes quilts using her own designs, was featured in the event. Little did she know that Ward would persuade her to take over the quilt show and make it an annual event. "That first year, we hung 97 quilts," Warner-Stone said. "Now, 12 years later, we hang over 200 quilts, and 600 to 700 people come to the show. "It turned into something the entire quilt industry looks forward to." While money remains a perpetual struggle, today Union Station boasts a museum, miniature train room, gift shop and banquet rooms. Amtrak's ridership is up significantly, Warner-Stone said. The director gives a lot of credit to Ward. "The depot wouldn't have progressed to the extent it has without Norma -- she's committed her life to this," Warner-Stone said. "She's very much a leader. She engages people without putting anybody off. And if something needs to be done, she makes it happen." Ward will tell you that as dedicated as she is to Union Station, she has pursued other interests. For example, she volunteered at Durand's Loaves and Fishes group, which provides food and other assistance to the needy, for nearly 12 years. And along with her life's many highlights, there have been tragedies, including the death of her son Dennis in a car crash at age 38. A lesser known fact about Ward is that she was an only child, adopted by the Husses when she was nine weeks old. She enjoyed regular contact with her biological father -- though she didn't know they were related until later in life -- but never met her biological mother until she was an adult with children of her own. However, Ward doesn't view her adoption as a negative experience. "I always knew I was loved," she said. Despite a rich and varied life, when Ward was asked about the future, her thoughts returned to Durand Union Station. "I'll keep volunteering -- as long as they'll let me," she said, laughing. "I get pretty bossy. "And I'd like to win a million dollars so I could put it in a fund for Durand Union Station to draw from. "That's the legacy I'd like to leave." Published: Wed, Jun 29, 2011