The Perfect Landscape for the Landscape Architect

JENS JENSEN’S VISION LIVES ON AT THE CLEARING
 

For a fellow who didn’t want to become a farmer, Jens Jensen made quite a name for himself with plants.

While his years working the family farm in his native Denmark may have altered his future ambitions, it definitely instilled a love for nature and started him on a path that made him a pioneer in the field of landscape design. Jensen probably didn’t have that title of landscape architect embossed on a business card, for there was no such “official” profession in the early days of the 20th century.

But just like the architect Frank Lloyd Wright, with whom Jensen would eventually share a period of friendship and professional collaboration, they would establish their own unique style born from Midwestern influences that would carry them to widespread fame.

Each left a lasting imprint, and while one of Wright’s most telling prairie-style buildings can be found at Taliesin in southern Wisconsin, the complexities of Jensen’s passion for native landscaping with an equally organic love for grassroots education can also be found in this state. Near the tip of the Door Peninsula is Jensen’s folk school The Clearing.

According to Michael Schneider, executive director of the school, the name comes from a “clearing of the mind.” Like the appreciation for nature born from his youth, the Danish folk school tradition that also caught Jensen’s fancy would produce one of the Midwest’s, if not the country’s, most beautiful and inspiring “campuses.” The school draws people to come on weekends to simply walk among its trees and stand transfixed atop a bluff overlooking the waters of Green Bay.

Others come for as much as a week at a time for instruction that Jensen described as “non-competitive – there are no credits, no grades, no degrees, no pitting of one student against another.” Rather, the emphasis is on discussion, conversation and hands-on learning with a special emphasis on art and nature.

Jen Jensen found his perfect setting. Contributed photo.

“It had to be on the edge of the wild. It had to be high up on a hill or a bluff looking over a large expanse of water with a view of the setting sun.”
—Michael Schneider

A SILVER LINING
 

After the Prussians invaded his Danish town in 1864, when Jensen was a young child, and burned his family’s farm buildings, you can understand why Jensen wasn’t particularly pleased with being forced into the Prussian army when he was 21. But there was a silver lining, as his exposure to parks in Berlin ignited Jensen’s passion for landscape design that he brought it over with him when he immigrated to America in 1884.

After short stays in Florida and Iowa, Jensen settled in Chicago and accepted a job as a laborer in Union Park. Still recovering from one of the nation’s most destructive fires, Chicago was ripe for Jensen’s creative talents.

He quickly rose through the ranks, and his first opportunity to apply his creative talents came in 1888.

“He was given a corner of Union Park to design and plant a garden,” said Schneider.

“He had fallen in love with the prairie,” said Schneider. It was there that he found and transplanted native wildflowers into his Union Park plot that would become known as the American Garden.

“People regarded native plants as weeds back then,” Schneider said. “It was probably the first public garden that relied mostly on native plants in the United States.”

Jensen would eventually ascend to general superintendent of the entire West Park District, leaving his imprint on a variety of parks in the district, particularly Columbus Park, which was named a National Historic Landmark in 2003.

“He also played a significant role in the establishment of the Forest Preserve District in Cook County,” said Schneider, referring to the network of open spaces in the Chicago area that contain and preserve forest, prairie, wetlands, streams and lakes.

“Timing was crucial,” said Schneider. “Chicago was the fastest-growing city in human history at that time. Because of the fire, Chicago had a chance for a redo, and Jensen was not interested in parks that were copies of those in Europe but something uniquely American.”

As the city rapidly spread westward through the prairie, Jensen was ready as he strove to preserve elements of the land he loved in his parks. His fame spread, and soon some of the nation’s most prominent industrialists sought out Jensen to apply his magic touch to their estates.

The art classroom at The Clearing. Contributed photo.

THE PERFECT PLACE
 

But Schneider said Jensen eventually sought a retreat from his urban setting, and this place had to meet four criteria.

“It had to be on the edge of the wild,” said Schneider. “It had to be high up on a hill or a bluff looking over a large expanse of water with a view of the setting sun.”

For anyone who has visited The Clearing, they can understand why this property in Ellison Bay caught his fancy.

Jensen purchased the first parcel of what is now 128 acres in 1919 with the intent of creating a folk school, but initially he used the property for the first 16 years as a family retreat.

When his wife, Ann Marie, died in 1934, Jensen retired and permanently relocated to Door County, and he further committed himself to The Clearing as a “school of the soil.”

“He brought young landscape architects up to the land to help build The Clearing,” said Schneider, thus influencing their own appreciation for the natural order of things.

While rooted in Jensen’s passion for soul-enriching classes conducted in a soul-inspired setting, the school’s current curriculum really didn’t take shape until after his passing in 1951. The first summer program was introduced in 1954 under the leadership of Jensen’s longtime associate Mertha Fulkerson. The one-week class sessions most closely represent Jensen’s vision for the school.

Fulkerson also helped guide the school through its first major financial crisis in the mid-1950s when she sought and gained the support of the Wisconsin Farm Bureau Federation (WFBF).

“One of the motivators in seeking WFBF assistance was the organization shared Jensen’s vision and would continue to operate it in his tradition,” Schneider said.

“People have always been at the core of The Clearing’s survival,” added Schneider, who points to the establishment of The Friends of The Clearing in 1961 as the foundation upon which the organization operates today.

That became evident in 1985 when the farm recession prompted the WFBF to end its support of The Clearing.

“The Friends were given six months to raise $500,000,” said Schneider, still amazed at the success of the campaign.

The Clearing became self-sufficient and ultimately led to creating the opportunity that eventually resulted in Schneider’s 19 years as its executive director.

“I really wasn’t that interested in the job at first,” said Schneider, who must have had Jensen peering over his shoulder when he sat in one Jensen’s signature council rings and absorbed the spectacular view over Green Bay. “It’s one of the most beautiful spots I’ve ever seen.”

Schneider admits he feels the ghost of Jensen at times as he moves about the property. It’s land that, except for just eight acres, is now in a conservation easement held by the Door County Land Trust to preserve, as the master landscape architect intended.

Schneider seemed a bit embarrassed and insisted no disrespect is intended to any Christians when he faces a “WWJD” moment. He and his entire staff at The Clearing seem committed to answering the question, What Would Jens Do?

“I’d like to think he’d like what everyone has done over the years,” said Schneider with a smile.