THE OHIO BARN PROJECT
Paintings Listed by Ohio County - D-I
DARKE
"Snowbound"
According to Gretchen Snyder, who owns this farm with her husband Chris, this barn is one of seven on the property, which they purchased in 2007. Seven barns meant that the original farm had to be large and that the farmer was prosperous. This barn with its massive hand-hewn beams, built in 1872 by Joseph Glunt, was likely the first barn on the farm. Later, in 1884, S.C. and Mary Glunt Mote built the farmhouse, which the Synders are currently rehabbing.
Though I visited this barn in April, when the scene was snow-less and not yet spring-like, I felt compelled to paint the barn in winter – thanks to a photo from the owners, reminding me of Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl, a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, which he published in 1866. In that era, Ohio was emerging from the Civil War, was mostly a state of farms with hand-hewn timber-framed barns, and was full of hardy souls with large families. I’m sure that many of those pioneers could identify with this poem. Six years later the Glunts built this barn.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
According to Gretchen Snyder, who owns this farm with her husband Chris, this barn is one of seven on the property, which they purchased in 2007. Seven barns meant that the original farm had to be large and that the farmer was prosperous. This barn with its massive hand-hewn beams, built in 1872 by Joseph Glunt, was likely the first barn on the farm. Later, in 1884, S.C. and Mary Glunt Mote built the farmhouse, which the Synders are currently rehabbing.
Though I visited this barn in April, when the scene was snow-less and not yet spring-like, I felt compelled to paint the barn in winter – thanks to a photo from the owners, reminding me of Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl, a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, which he published in 1866. In that era, Ohio was emerging from the Civil War, was mostly a state of farms with hand-hewn timber-framed barns, and was full of hardy souls with large families. I’m sure that many of those pioneers could identify with this poem. Six years later the Glunts built this barn.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
DEFIANCE
“North by Northwest”
After driving for a few hours north on the ever-so-straight Route 127, I veered westwards on Route 18, hoping to find a barn in the small section of Defiance County that I’d pass through. And I was lucky to spot this one, a red beauty, nicely maintained, and just off the main road. This true bank barn was built into a gentle rise and supported in the rear by sturdy stone walls. Though it was cold and windy, the snowfall had stopped, giving me a chance to do a sketch and take reference photos. I liked the composition and figured I’d contact the historical society later on to learn more about it. It’s located west of the county seat, Defiance, which takes its name – as the county does – from a fort that General “Mad” Anthony Wayne built in August, 1794. Though it was considered one of the strongest fortifications of that period, it took only nine days to build and was strategically placed in between two major rivers, the Maumee and the Auglaize. The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
After driving for a few hours north on the ever-so-straight Route 127, I veered westwards on Route 18, hoping to find a barn in the small section of Defiance County that I’d pass through. And I was lucky to spot this one, a red beauty, nicely maintained, and just off the main road. This true bank barn was built into a gentle rise and supported in the rear by sturdy stone walls. Though it was cold and windy, the snowfall had stopped, giving me a chance to do a sketch and take reference photos. I liked the composition and figured I’d contact the historical society later on to learn more about it. It’s located west of the county seat, Defiance, which takes its name – as the county does – from a fort that General “Mad” Anthony Wayne built in August, 1794. Though it was considered one of the strongest fortifications of that period, it took only nine days to build and was strategically placed in between two major rivers, the Maumee and the Auglaize. The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
DELAWARE
“The Grandfathers”
Years ago, when I first laid eyes on this barn while driving north on Ohio Route 3 and just outside of Sunbury, I was captivated. The morning mist hung on the ground, gentle rays of sun flickered, and the weathered barn, its rusting metal roof, and its five silos almost seemed to be rising out of the fog. The scene was haunting and, a mile later, I regretted not stopping to sketch it but, at the same time, I didn’t want to be late for friend’s wedding. I vowed to return.When I paid a visit the next spring, I walked around, admiring the ruins of what must been a large and prosperous Ohio farm. But now the silos were empty, the buildings unoccupied, and there was no clue to ownership or history – just a marvelous composition. I called the county auditor, providing this address and another of a barn down the road, but didn’t get any response to my letter. The historical society couldn’t help, either. But the barn begged to be painted, regardless of its anonymity. And there’s a story, too.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Years ago, when I first laid eyes on this barn while driving north on Ohio Route 3 and just outside of Sunbury, I was captivated. The morning mist hung on the ground, gentle rays of sun flickered, and the weathered barn, its rusting metal roof, and its five silos almost seemed to be rising out of the fog. The scene was haunting and, a mile later, I regretted not stopping to sketch it but, at the same time, I didn’t want to be late for friend’s wedding. I vowed to return.When I paid a visit the next spring, I walked around, admiring the ruins of what must been a large and prosperous Ohio farm. But now the silos were empty, the buildings unoccupied, and there was no clue to ownership or history – just a marvelous composition. I called the county auditor, providing this address and another of a barn down the road, but didn’t get any response to my letter. The historical society couldn’t help, either. But the barn begged to be painted, regardless of its anonymity. And there’s a story, too.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
ERIE
“Prisoners of War”
In the spring of 2018 – a year before my barn tour of Erie County – my barn scout Mel sent me a photo of this unusual barn and told me its story, which was the first time I’d heard that the United States took in POWs during WWII. But let’s begin at the beginning.
The barn – now dismantled – had a slate roof with the date of 1901, probably signifying when the barn was built. The farm may have been started earlier than that, as many were in Ohio’s northwest. And the original family may have been the Ohlemachers.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
In the spring of 2018 – a year before my barn tour of Erie County – my barn scout Mel sent me a photo of this unusual barn and told me its story, which was the first time I’d heard that the United States took in POWs during WWII. But let’s begin at the beginning.
The barn – now dismantled – had a slate roof with the date of 1901, probably signifying when the barn was built. The farm may have been started earlier than that, as many were in Ohio’s northwest. And the original family may have been the Ohlemachers.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
FAIRFIELD
“The Captain”
Liz Fox – along with her husband Bob, the barn owner – was kind enough to share with me information about the early days of this Ohio gem, information that comes from a copy of the diary of Captain August F. Witte. In his writing, Witte explained that he enlisted in the German military when he was 26, receiving the rank of corporal in the Landwehr Battalion. Within a year he rose to lieutenant. Then, as he wrote, he “marched with the Army of Hanover to the occupation of the Netherlands and was attached to the staff of Major General Lyon. In this way I fought against Napoleon and returned from France in February, 1816. In the year 1817 I was promotion to the rank of captain.” But perhaps the aura of the new world was calling him.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Liz Fox – along with her husband Bob, the barn owner – was kind enough to share with me information about the early days of this Ohio gem, information that comes from a copy of the diary of Captain August F. Witte. In his writing, Witte explained that he enlisted in the German military when he was 26, receiving the rank of corporal in the Landwehr Battalion. Within a year he rose to lieutenant. Then, as he wrote, he “marched with the Army of Hanover to the occupation of the Netherlands and was attached to the staff of Major General Lyon. In this way I fought against Napoleon and returned from France in February, 1816. In the year 1817 I was promotion to the rank of captain.” But perhaps the aura of the new world was calling him.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
“The County Fair”
Signage, above several entrances to this circular barn, clearly states its history: Round Cattle Barn – Built in 1906 – By J.E. Hedges – Dairy Cattle. It’s a rarity – a round barn built specifically for a county fair.
Hedges, a local farmer and barn builder, could have chosen a traditional rectangular barn for this project, but this was an era when round barns were considered ideal for dairy cattle. For his labor and materials Hedges was paid $3,022.14, a huge sum in 1906. He cleverly soaked the lumber for the curved section in a creek and then was able to bend it into a circle. The barn, built for dairy and beef cattle, also housed the junior livestock sale.
With a diameter stretching to 95 feet and a roof covered with wood shingles, the sight must have commanded attention during the county fair in 1906. Apparently local residents began to appreciate the uniqueness of the barn and so they covered the roof with galvanized metal in 1934, assuring longevity. In 1937, with the fair’s popularity growing – despite the throes of the Great Depression – they added two large wings to the round barn.
What’s just as impressive as the barn is the county fair, which dates to 1851, the oldest continuously running county fair in Ohio. In 1850 the Fairfield County Agricultural Society formed and hosted the fair in Lancaster the following year. Only 60 years earlier Lancaster, the county seat, was comprised of 100 wigwams and 500 people. The fertile fields drew immigrants and agriculture was king. Indians moved westwards.
In 1876 the fairgrounds expanded to 22 acres and again to 36 acres in 1880, when a half-mile race track was added. Three years later organizers built a new amphitheatre and eventually drilled for natural gas. In 1889 they found it, tapping its energy to provide light for night-time races, the only place in America that offered night racing. They also piped the gas to the center of a lake in the fairgrounds and ignited it as it bubbled up through perforated pipes, earning the title, “Lake of Fire.” What a sight that must have been!
Another feather on this barn’s cap was that it was used in filming the 1980 movie, Brubaker, starring Robert Redford. Chances are that the film crew didn’t know much about J.E. Hedges but they liked his barn well enough to use it. I’m sure, if he were alive, he’d be proud. This painting sold in a fundraiser for the Fairfield County museums.
Signage, above several entrances to this circular barn, clearly states its history: Round Cattle Barn – Built in 1906 – By J.E. Hedges – Dairy Cattle. It’s a rarity – a round barn built specifically for a county fair.
Hedges, a local farmer and barn builder, could have chosen a traditional rectangular barn for this project, but this was an era when round barns were considered ideal for dairy cattle. For his labor and materials Hedges was paid $3,022.14, a huge sum in 1906. He cleverly soaked the lumber for the curved section in a creek and then was able to bend it into a circle. The barn, built for dairy and beef cattle, also housed the junior livestock sale.
With a diameter stretching to 95 feet and a roof covered with wood shingles, the sight must have commanded attention during the county fair in 1906. Apparently local residents began to appreciate the uniqueness of the barn and so they covered the roof with galvanized metal in 1934, assuring longevity. In 1937, with the fair’s popularity growing – despite the throes of the Great Depression – they added two large wings to the round barn.
What’s just as impressive as the barn is the county fair, which dates to 1851, the oldest continuously running county fair in Ohio. In 1850 the Fairfield County Agricultural Society formed and hosted the fair in Lancaster the following year. Only 60 years earlier Lancaster, the county seat, was comprised of 100 wigwams and 500 people. The fertile fields drew immigrants and agriculture was king. Indians moved westwards.
In 1876 the fairgrounds expanded to 22 acres and again to 36 acres in 1880, when a half-mile race track was added. Three years later organizers built a new amphitheatre and eventually drilled for natural gas. In 1889 they found it, tapping its energy to provide light for night-time races, the only place in America that offered night racing. They also piped the gas to the center of a lake in the fairgrounds and ignited it as it bubbled up through perforated pipes, earning the title, “Lake of Fire.” What a sight that must have been!
Another feather on this barn’s cap was that it was used in filming the 1980 movie, Brubaker, starring Robert Redford. Chances are that the film crew didn’t know much about J.E. Hedges but they liked his barn well enough to use it. I’m sure, if he were alive, he’d be proud. This painting sold in a fundraiser for the Fairfield County museums.
“The Diary”
This barn isn’t particularly old, built probably in the 1890s – from trees on the farm, fashioned into beams connected by mortise and tenon joints and wooden nails. And, with a colorful family history, it probably wasn’t the first barn built on this farm. But, although the bank barn may not rank in Ohio’s top ten of distinctive old barns, its story certainly is one of Ohio’s best.
Thanks to an article about my Ohio Barn Project in the Logan (Hocking County) newspaper, Robert Sharp asked his daughter Nancy Sharp-Ward to contact me. And, since the barn was located in Sugar Grove, just across the Hocking County line, I included it on my barn tour. Fortunately I met Nancy who showed me a diary written by one of her ancestors, one that could easily be made into a movie. But let’s begin even earlier. This story will be featured in my second book on historic Ohio barns.
This barn isn’t particularly old, built probably in the 1890s – from trees on the farm, fashioned into beams connected by mortise and tenon joints and wooden nails. And, with a colorful family history, it probably wasn’t the first barn built on this farm. But, although the bank barn may not rank in Ohio’s top ten of distinctive old barns, its story certainly is one of Ohio’s best.
Thanks to an article about my Ohio Barn Project in the Logan (Hocking County) newspaper, Robert Sharp asked his daughter Nancy Sharp-Ward to contact me. And, since the barn was located in Sugar Grove, just across the Hocking County line, I included it on my barn tour. Fortunately I met Nancy who showed me a diary written by one of her ancestors, one that could easily be made into a movie. But let’s begin even earlier. This story will be featured in my second book on historic Ohio barns.
“Diley’s Delight”
The historical society chose this barn to be my demonstration painting for their fundraiser in the summer of 2022. Though I didn’t visit it, I liked the image that society president Peggy sent: a handsome English three-bay threshing barn, its red paint fading to gray, a few missing boards, and a little man-door stuck in a corner, its hinges still intact. It was a classic historic Ohio barn, another gem in the cap of barn-rich Fairfield County.
According to Peggy, the barn has hand-hewn beams, which dates it to the 19th-century … and probably before 1890, when sawn-beams began to appear, signaling a transition from timber-framing to plank construction. In fact, the current owner has repurposed some of the beams into fireplace mantles.
The Diley family (spelled originally Diele or Diehle) left Germany for America around 1830, settling in Pennsylvania before moving to Fairfield County. By 1840, according to a census, they were living in Violet township with several children and by 1850 Charles Diley, the patriarch, owned land here. He died in 1857. His sons Charles and John became partners on an 80-acre farm for a few years.
Over the years, Charles bought more land in the township, which, after his death in 1909, was divided among his five heirs. Later that year, his youngest son, Martin Diley, purchased an 81-acre farm – with the barn on it – for $8,000. It remained in the Diley family until 1974, two years after Martin died. Ralph and Betty Miller purchased it. Fifty years later, the Millers sold it to Dorothy Southard and it became part of a more than 800-acre holding, currently owned by Michael Hummel in a family trust. According to Peggy, the barn has deteriorated significantly, and the owner does not know what will happen to it. Chances are that it will probably be taken down, especially since the property is valuable, located in the U.S. Route 33 Development Corridor.
Though this barn likely replaced one or more barns on the Diley farm, it represents a prosperous farm family, one of the early residents of Fairfield County. And, even though it may be gone soon, at one point this handsome barn was the pride of Violet Township and certainly could be viewed as “Diley’s Delight.”
The historical society chose this barn to be my demonstration painting for their fundraiser in the summer of 2022. Though I didn’t visit it, I liked the image that society president Peggy sent: a handsome English three-bay threshing barn, its red paint fading to gray, a few missing boards, and a little man-door stuck in a corner, its hinges still intact. It was a classic historic Ohio barn, another gem in the cap of barn-rich Fairfield County.
According to Peggy, the barn has hand-hewn beams, which dates it to the 19th-century … and probably before 1890, when sawn-beams began to appear, signaling a transition from timber-framing to plank construction. In fact, the current owner has repurposed some of the beams into fireplace mantles.
The Diley family (spelled originally Diele or Diehle) left Germany for America around 1830, settling in Pennsylvania before moving to Fairfield County. By 1840, according to a census, they were living in Violet township with several children and by 1850 Charles Diley, the patriarch, owned land here. He died in 1857. His sons Charles and John became partners on an 80-acre farm for a few years.
Over the years, Charles bought more land in the township, which, after his death in 1909, was divided among his five heirs. Later that year, his youngest son, Martin Diley, purchased an 81-acre farm – with the barn on it – for $8,000. It remained in the Diley family until 1974, two years after Martin died. Ralph and Betty Miller purchased it. Fifty years later, the Millers sold it to Dorothy Southard and it became part of a more than 800-acre holding, currently owned by Michael Hummel in a family trust. According to Peggy, the barn has deteriorated significantly, and the owner does not know what will happen to it. Chances are that it will probably be taken down, especially since the property is valuable, located in the U.S. Route 33 Development Corridor.
Though this barn likely replaced one or more barns on the Diley farm, it represents a prosperous farm family, one of the early residents of Fairfield County. And, even though it may be gone soon, at one point this handsome barn was the pride of Violet Township and certainly could be viewed as “Diley’s Delight.”
FAYETTE
"Fayette's Corn Barn"
This corn barn is one of Ohio’s historical treasures. And, it’s got a good story, too. In driving down I-71 one day, my wife and I spied it from the highway, not far from the Washington Court House interchange. From a distance, it looked like a round barn and it caught my attention. After contacting the city, I finally reached the current owner, Chris Jefferies, who has lived in the area since 1979 and told me he’s always admired the Krieger homestead as well as Carl Krieger’s farming expertise. Carl was one of the best farmers in the area.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
This corn barn is one of Ohio’s historical treasures. And, it’s got a good story, too. In driving down I-71 one day, my wife and I spied it from the highway, not far from the Washington Court House interchange. From a distance, it looked like a round barn and it caught my attention. After contacting the city, I finally reached the current owner, Chris Jefferies, who has lived in the area since 1979 and told me he’s always admired the Krieger homestead as well as Carl Krieger’s farming expertise. Carl was one of the best farmers in the area.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
FRANKLIN
"Rosedale"
I was lucky. When I arrived at the Everal Barn, I couldn’t tell which county it was in – Delaware or Franklin. Hoping for the latter, I asked the volunteer in the office, formerly the 1870s farmhouse of the Everal family, who told me that the county line was only a block away. So, yes, this would be my Franklin County barn. Lucky me.
The farm’s name, Rosedale, derives from industrialist J. W. Everal’s second wife Rose, stepmother to his children after his first wife died, whom he wanted remembered when he christened the farm with this name in August, 1914. Six years later the Carpenter family bought the property, which eventually passed to the City of Westerville in 1978. Realizing its significance, city leaders kept and restored several of the buildings, creating a historical peek into life in the late 1800s. Other buildings, besides the farmhouse, include a milk house, a hen house, a smoke house, and a carriage house, under which was the butcher room where the family prepared meat for preserving.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
I was lucky. When I arrived at the Everal Barn, I couldn’t tell which county it was in – Delaware or Franklin. Hoping for the latter, I asked the volunteer in the office, formerly the 1870s farmhouse of the Everal family, who told me that the county line was only a block away. So, yes, this would be my Franklin County barn. Lucky me.
The farm’s name, Rosedale, derives from industrialist J. W. Everal’s second wife Rose, stepmother to his children after his first wife died, whom he wanted remembered when he christened the farm with this name in August, 1914. Six years later the Carpenter family bought the property, which eventually passed to the City of Westerville in 1978. Realizing its significance, city leaders kept and restored several of the buildings, creating a historical peek into life in the late 1800s. Other buildings, besides the farmhouse, include a milk house, a hen house, a smoke house, and a carriage house, under which was the butcher room where the family prepared meat for preserving.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
FULTON
“Stay On”
Barn scout Grace explained that Cheryl and Paul “Whitey” Bird own this large gray barn on County Road 21. Strikingly similar to a nearby barn, it may have been built by the same person many years ago.
The owner modified its gambrel roof by adding a large side extension – presumably because he or she needed more room. Smaller sheds have been added to the front and the rear. Inside, a combination of saw-cut and hand-hewn lumber – some attached with mortise and tenon joints, connected with wooden pegs – hints at a construction date in the late 1800s. Original planks supporting the roof vary in size, another clue to its age.
But, as impressive as the timber-framing was, the highlight of the barn was a small cast-iron metal hinge, stamped with F.E. Meyers and Bros., Ashland, Ohio – Stay On. This traces back to a rags-to-riches story, involving two Ohio brothers.
Thanks to the Ashland County Historical Society, the history of the F.E. Meyers and Brothers Company has been preserved. It began in Uniontown, Ohio, as the village was known in 1815, whose name changed to Ashland less than a century later. An early manufacturing site, the city boasted several companies, including Meyers, which, in 1915, was its largest, employing nearly 800.
Barn scout Grace explained that Cheryl and Paul “Whitey” Bird own this large gray barn on County Road 21. Strikingly similar to a nearby barn, it may have been built by the same person many years ago.
The owner modified its gambrel roof by adding a large side extension – presumably because he or she needed more room. Smaller sheds have been added to the front and the rear. Inside, a combination of saw-cut and hand-hewn lumber – some attached with mortise and tenon joints, connected with wooden pegs – hints at a construction date in the late 1800s. Original planks supporting the roof vary in size, another clue to its age.
But, as impressive as the timber-framing was, the highlight of the barn was a small cast-iron metal hinge, stamped with F.E. Meyers and Bros., Ashland, Ohio – Stay On. This traces back to a rags-to-riches story, involving two Ohio brothers.
Thanks to the Ashland County Historical Society, the history of the F.E. Meyers and Brothers Company has been preserved. It began in Uniontown, Ohio, as the village was known in 1815, whose name changed to Ashland less than a century later. An early manufacturing site, the city boasted several companies, including Meyers, which, in 1915, was its largest, employing nearly 800.
“Rails”
After the Ohio-Erie Canal and its many secondary canals perforated the Ohio landscape by 1830, farmers took notice and occasionally built their farmstead close to one. Before that, they generally built their barns next to the dirt road leading to town and took any surplus to market in wagons. Next came the railroads, which transformed transportation in America in the mid-1800s. Again, if they could, farmers would build their barn close to a line, often being able to load their goods directly onto a train. In Knox County, one historic barn sits only a few yards off the rails, which allowed the sheep farmers in the area to store and then load their wool into a train car.
Although this barn, owned by Barbara Beaverson, sits about 50 yards away from the railroad line, its owner may have taken advantage of the rails at one time. I decided to move the line closer to the barn, reminiscing about the likelihood of such transportation
After the Ohio-Erie Canal and its many secondary canals perforated the Ohio landscape by 1830, farmers took notice and occasionally built their farmstead close to one. Before that, they generally built their barns next to the dirt road leading to town and took any surplus to market in wagons. Next came the railroads, which transformed transportation in America in the mid-1800s. Again, if they could, farmers would build their barn close to a line, often being able to load their goods directly onto a train. In Knox County, one historic barn sits only a few yards off the rails, which allowed the sheep farmers in the area to store and then load their wool into a train car.
Although this barn, owned by Barbara Beaverson, sits about 50 yards away from the railroad line, its owner may have taken advantage of the rails at one time. I decided to move the line closer to the barn, reminiscing about the likelihood of such transportation
“Definitely Devil Doors”
Although this old barn complex traces back to pre-Civil War years, its history – including the founder’s name and his family’s stories – has been lost in time. It had been vacant for seven years before Melvin and Eloise Wyse purchased it in 1969. According to barn scout Grace, the farmhouse basement was full of oat and corn seed, hinting at which crops the former owner, Charlie Weber, had planted.
Inside, extensive hand-hewn beams, connected by wooden pegs in mortise and tenon joints show the skill of the barn builder – his work has survived for over 150 years. And, if the metal roofs continue to be maintained, it may last another 150 years. Other clues to the barn’s antiquity are the hand-forged hinges on the granary door and on the horse stalls. Perhaps the farm’s founder was a blacksmith.
However, the painting’s title goes to the many devil doors – on the main barn, on the add-on barn, the man door, and even on the two haymow openings. Call him superstitious but the farmer didn’t want anything to do with the devil and fortified his barn with these traditional designs, almost guaranteed to serve their purpose. Maybe.
Although this old barn complex traces back to pre-Civil War years, its history – including the founder’s name and his family’s stories – has been lost in time. It had been vacant for seven years before Melvin and Eloise Wyse purchased it in 1969. According to barn scout Grace, the farmhouse basement was full of oat and corn seed, hinting at which crops the former owner, Charlie Weber, had planted.
Inside, extensive hand-hewn beams, connected by wooden pegs in mortise and tenon joints show the skill of the barn builder – his work has survived for over 150 years. And, if the metal roofs continue to be maintained, it may last another 150 years. Other clues to the barn’s antiquity are the hand-forged hinges on the granary door and on the horse stalls. Perhaps the farm’s founder was a blacksmith.
However, the painting’s title goes to the many devil doors – on the main barn, on the add-on barn, the man door, and even on the two haymow openings. Call him superstitious but the farmer didn’t want anything to do with the devil and fortified his barn with these traditional designs, almost guaranteed to serve their purpose. Maybe.
“Wheaties”
Most Ohio farmers raise corn and soybeans, rotating crops annually. Some raise livestock – for beef – or dairy cows for milk. Some raise hogs, turkeys, and chickens. And, every now and then, you’ll run across a wheat field – like the one in the foreground of this old barn.
In 18th century Virginia, the gentlemen farmers – including George Washington – began to realize that tobacco farming was beginning to deplete the soil, reducing annual production. So, many – including our first president – switched to wheat.
Though we didn’t have the chance to go inside this barn, known as the Charlie and Ethel Eicher barn and owned by Rich and Kathy Miller, it made a nice composition. The tall silo, towering over the main barn, was a nice accent and two other smaller barns added interest. The wheat field, mature and apparently ready to harvest, reminded me of growing up in the 1950s, when boxes of Wheaties often displayed champion athletes.
Most Ohio farmers raise corn and soybeans, rotating crops annually. Some raise livestock – for beef – or dairy cows for milk. Some raise hogs, turkeys, and chickens. And, every now and then, you’ll run across a wheat field – like the one in the foreground of this old barn.
In 18th century Virginia, the gentlemen farmers – including George Washington – began to realize that tobacco farming was beginning to deplete the soil, reducing annual production. So, many – including our first president – switched to wheat.
Though we didn’t have the chance to go inside this barn, known as the Charlie and Ethel Eicher barn and owned by Rich and Kathy Miller, it made a nice composition. The tall silo, towering over the main barn, was a nice accent and two other smaller barns added interest. The wheat field, mature and apparently ready to harvest, reminded me of growing up in the 1950s, when boxes of Wheaties often displayed champion athletes.
“Munson Boys Basketball”
This old feed mill – which also served as a barn for dairy cows – is owned by Joey and Janet Taylor and sits … barely … across the state line in Lenawee County, Michigan. In fact, the center of the road, Route 120, divides the states, allowing one to stride down the middle with one foot in each state – just like on Main Street in Bristol, where one foot can be in Tennessee and the other in Virginia.
Rush Taylor, Joey’s grandfather, bought a house in Munson in 1926 and built this barn in the 1930s during the Great Depression, a challenging time for both rural and urban Americans. Both an entrepreneur and a farmer, he raised oats, wheat, and corn as well as keeping cows for milk and butter, which he kept on the lower level. In addition to farming, he sold grain, storing it in the cylindrical extension, where grain storage bins sat. A sign from the 1960s, which the family has preserved, listed his offerings: wheat, bran, middlings, meat scraps, tankage, butter milk, alfalfa meal, salt, oyster shells, oyster shell flour, limestone, bone meal, fish meal, charcoal, grit, linseed oil meal, dry molasses, liquid molasses, lime, fly spray, block salt. If Rush didn’t have it, no one else did, either.
This old feed mill – which also served as a barn for dairy cows – is owned by Joey and Janet Taylor and sits … barely … across the state line in Lenawee County, Michigan. In fact, the center of the road, Route 120, divides the states, allowing one to stride down the middle with one foot in each state – just like on Main Street in Bristol, where one foot can be in Tennessee and the other in Virginia.
Rush Taylor, Joey’s grandfather, bought a house in Munson in 1926 and built this barn in the 1930s during the Great Depression, a challenging time for both rural and urban Americans. Both an entrepreneur and a farmer, he raised oats, wheat, and corn as well as keeping cows for milk and butter, which he kept on the lower level. In addition to farming, he sold grain, storing it in the cylindrical extension, where grain storage bins sat. A sign from the 1960s, which the family has preserved, listed his offerings: wheat, bran, middlings, meat scraps, tankage, butter milk, alfalfa meal, salt, oyster shells, oyster shell flour, limestone, bone meal, fish meal, charcoal, grit, linseed oil meal, dry molasses, liquid molasses, lime, fly spray, block salt. If Rush didn’t have it, no one else did, either.
“The Old … and the New”
When my barn scouts and I arrived at this deteriorating barn, only a windstorm away from total collapse, we marveled at the contrast. In the background, the old barn sat, its roof caved in the middle and its right flank showing only protruding rafters; in the foreground, a long sleek modern motorhome was parked, almost as if to say, “Old barn, your time is in the past. Make room for me.”
To the right side, another historic piece of the past seemed to answer the motorhome – an orange brick one-room schoolhouse, still protected by lightning rods and formerly the site of a teacher and farm children, many of whom walked miles to attend this school. No yellow bus in those days.
When my barn scouts and I arrived at this deteriorating barn, only a windstorm away from total collapse, we marveled at the contrast. In the background, the old barn sat, its roof caved in the middle and its right flank showing only protruding rafters; in the foreground, a long sleek modern motorhome was parked, almost as if to say, “Old barn, your time is in the past. Make room for me.”
To the right side, another historic piece of the past seemed to answer the motorhome – an orange brick one-room schoolhouse, still protected by lightning rods and formerly the site of a teacher and farm children, many of whom walked miles to attend this school. No yellow bus in those days.
“The Autumn Leaves”
Though barn scout Grace and Randy and I didn’t visit this barn, recently purchased by the Potters, in the fall, the dense foilage in the background made me wonder how beautiful it would be in a few months. A song popped into my head, written in 1945 and recorded well over 1,400 times by various artists. Some of the lyrics of Autumn Leaves are as follows:
“The falling leaves
Drift by my window
The autumn leaves
Of red and gold …
Since you went away
The days grow long
And soon I'll hear
Old winter's song
But I miss you most of all, my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.”
Though barn scout Grace and Randy and I didn’t visit this barn, recently purchased by the Potters, in the fall, the dense foilage in the background made me wonder how beautiful it would be in a few months. A song popped into my head, written in 1945 and recorded well over 1,400 times by various artists. Some of the lyrics of Autumn Leaves are as follows:
“The falling leaves
Drift by my window
The autumn leaves
Of red and gold …
Since you went away
The days grow long
And soon I'll hear
Old winter's song
But I miss you most of all, my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.”
“Vines”
This old barn, owned by Charles Merillat, whose initials are spelled on the side of the barn, was the first one that barn scouts Grace and Randy and I visited on our tour in 2022. Though it’s old – and probably historic to some degree – vines and shrubbery are beginning to encapsulate it, threating its longevity.
Randy said that, when he was in college, he helped put on the green asphalt roof, which still looks good – 50 years later. Nice work, Randy. Inside, hand-hewn timber-framing hints that the barn may date to the pre-Civil War era. A granary, perched high on the second level, is another rarity. Two ladders connect it with the ground floor – climbing that ladder meant lots of exercise for the farmer or his children.
This old barn, owned by Charles Merillat, whose initials are spelled on the side of the barn, was the first one that barn scouts Grace and Randy and I visited on our tour in 2022. Though it’s old – and probably historic to some degree – vines and shrubbery are beginning to encapsulate it, threating its longevity.
Randy said that, when he was in college, he helped put on the green asphalt roof, which still looks good – 50 years later. Nice work, Randy. Inside, hand-hewn timber-framing hints that the barn may date to the pre-Civil War era. A granary, perched high on the second level, is another rarity. Two ladders connect it with the ground floor – climbing that ladder meant lots of exercise for the farmer or his children.
“Prosperity”
Richard and Betsy Wyse bought this farm in 1974, an assortment of two barns, a corn crib, and a milkhouse, all protected by metal roofs. Betsy told us that the adjacent farmhouse was built in 1910, which is when, they thought, the barn was built. Well, the large true bank barn on the left may have been built at this time, but the smaller one probably came later, when the farm’s income rose, perhaps in the same decade.
American agriculture blossomed during World War I since farmers had to produce for European farms, whose men and women were serving in the war effort. Crop prices rose as did prices for livestock and land. Some farmers, trying to increase production, bought more land, thinking that the good times wouldn’t end. But they did … and all too quickly – as soon as European farms resumed. Unfortunately, experts didn’t predict this rapid rebound and many farmers saw their income plummet. Those who took mortgages for additional land often lost their farms to banks. The 1920s – not to mention the Great Depression of the 1930s – were difficult years in rural America.
Richard and Betsy Wyse bought this farm in 1974, an assortment of two barns, a corn crib, and a milkhouse, all protected by metal roofs. Betsy told us that the adjacent farmhouse was built in 1910, which is when, they thought, the barn was built. Well, the large true bank barn on the left may have been built at this time, but the smaller one probably came later, when the farm’s income rose, perhaps in the same decade.
American agriculture blossomed during World War I since farmers had to produce for European farms, whose men and women were serving in the war effort. Crop prices rose as did prices for livestock and land. Some farmers, trying to increase production, bought more land, thinking that the good times wouldn’t end. But they did … and all too quickly – as soon as European farms resumed. Unfortunately, experts didn’t predict this rapid rebound and many farmers saw their income plummet. Those who took mortgages for additional land often lost their farms to banks. The 1920s – not to mention the Great Depression of the 1930s – were difficult years in rural America.
“The Sesquicentennial”
Jeff and Sally Canfield own this historic barn as well as the delightful Victorian farmhouse next to it. Jeff’s great-great-grandfather, Herman Canfield, founded the farm and built the barn, circa 1860-1865. Herman’s original log cabin has been moved to the county fairgrounds for all to enjoy. Its age, about the same as the farm’s, qualifies it as an Ohio Sesquicentennial, a tribute the state gives to farms continuously owned for over 150 years.
Most pre-Civil War barns are small, as this one is – about 30 by 30 feet, an unusual square shape. (Most old barns are rectangular.) Trees on the property provided lumber, which was hand-hewn and then connected in the traditional way with mortise and tenon joints and wooden pegs. The builder knew his craft well: the barn’s timber framing has held up wonderfully.
Jeff and Sally Canfield own this historic barn as well as the delightful Victorian farmhouse next to it. Jeff’s great-great-grandfather, Herman Canfield, founded the farm and built the barn, circa 1860-1865. Herman’s original log cabin has been moved to the county fairgrounds for all to enjoy. Its age, about the same as the farm’s, qualifies it as an Ohio Sesquicentennial, a tribute the state gives to farms continuously owned for over 150 years.
Most pre-Civil War barns are small, as this one is – about 30 by 30 feet, an unusual square shape. (Most old barns are rectangular.) Trees on the property provided lumber, which was hand-hewn and then connected in the traditional way with mortise and tenon joints and wooden pegs. The builder knew his craft well: the barn’s timber framing has held up wonderfully.
“The Centennial”
There’s a lot to like about this little barn, one that sits alone, isolated in a field of corn. Owner Janice Figgins explained that it’s been in her family since 1908, when her grandfather Herbert Sutton founded the farm. He built the barn in 1914 and did a pretty good job – it’s still standing, thanks in part to a sturdy metal roof and careful maintenance. Since the Sutton family has maintained ownership continuously since 1908, it qualified and is registered as an Ohio Century Farm, an honor it richly did deserve, now if the family can continue to own it for another 100 years, it will receive another recognition: an Ohio Bicentennial Farm. Here’s hoping …
There’s a lot to like about this little barn, one that sits alone, isolated in a field of corn. Owner Janice Figgins explained that it’s been in her family since 1908, when her grandfather Herbert Sutton founded the farm. He built the barn in 1914 and did a pretty good job – it’s still standing, thanks in part to a sturdy metal roof and careful maintenance. Since the Sutton family has maintained ownership continuously since 1908, it qualified and is registered as an Ohio Century Farm, an honor it richly did deserve, now if the family can continue to own it for another 100 years, it will receive another recognition: an Ohio Bicentennial Farm. Here’s hoping …
“America, Land of Opportunity”
When we pulled up to this barn, owned by Brian and Danni Keefer, an American flag, high on a flagpole, was waving in the breeze, its stars and stripes providing a patriotic theme for both the composition and the essay.
Though the barn looks old – its weathered red paint fading into gray – metal connections and dimensional lumber suggest an early to mid-20th century construction. However, the farmer must have been prosperous since he installed two additions over the years. These days, the Keefers raise Black Angus calves.
The flag reminded me of our country, which was established in a revolution against the tyranny and elitism of Great Britain in an effort to self-govern, to bear arms, to practice religion, and to own land. All 13 colonies united to form a ragged army, commanded by a general, who, after his service in the French and Indian War, was denied a commission in the British army. Thank goodness for that. Disappointed, George returned to farming.
When we pulled up to this barn, owned by Brian and Danni Keefer, an American flag, high on a flagpole, was waving in the breeze, its stars and stripes providing a patriotic theme for both the composition and the essay.
Though the barn looks old – its weathered red paint fading into gray – metal connections and dimensional lumber suggest an early to mid-20th century construction. However, the farmer must have been prosperous since he installed two additions over the years. These days, the Keefers raise Black Angus calves.
The flag reminded me of our country, which was established in a revolution against the tyranny and elitism of Great Britain in an effort to self-govern, to bear arms, to practice religion, and to own land. All 13 colonies united to form a ragged army, commanded by a general, who, after his service in the French and Indian War, was denied a commission in the British army. Thank goodness for that. Disappointed, George returned to farming.
“Head, Heart, Hands, and Health”
Last but not least, we visited the barns of Chris and Mark Brehm (Grace and Randy’s son), sitting next to “Road M,” and, as barn scout Grace explained, dangerously in the flood plain. In fact, water has found its way into this old barn occasionally.
Though it looks like a “Plain Jane” barn, inside there’s a mixture of saw-cut, hand-hewn, and even some beams with bark on them. Uniform dimensional lumber supporting the roof hints at a construction date around 1900 to 1920. Four lightning rods protect the barn.
Besides a spring-fed springhouse, there’s another old farm building – a double corn crib, wide enough for a wagon to enter. On its outer wall a poster proudly hung: “AOB Shorthorns – Mark, Chris, Jacob, Taylor, and Aspen Brehm, Fayette, Ohio.” For a 4-H project, the children raise these shorthorns. The AOB stands for All Other Breeds of these cattle, well regarded for their high-quality beef.
Last but not least, we visited the barns of Chris and Mark Brehm (Grace and Randy’s son), sitting next to “Road M,” and, as barn scout Grace explained, dangerously in the flood plain. In fact, water has found its way into this old barn occasionally.
Though it looks like a “Plain Jane” barn, inside there’s a mixture of saw-cut, hand-hewn, and even some beams with bark on them. Uniform dimensional lumber supporting the roof hints at a construction date around 1900 to 1920. Four lightning rods protect the barn.
Besides a spring-fed springhouse, there’s another old farm building – a double corn crib, wide enough for a wagon to enter. On its outer wall a poster proudly hung: “AOB Shorthorns – Mark, Chris, Jacob, Taylor, and Aspen Brehm, Fayette, Ohio.” For a 4-H project, the children raise these shorthorns. The AOB stands for All Other Breeds of these cattle, well regarded for their high-quality beef.
“Double Trouble”
Brent Brehm and his wife Amanda own this five-acre farm, which includes these two large barns, connected to each other, but they don’t raise livestock unless bunnies and cats fall into that category. Brent’s dad, however, uses the barns to house about 50 head of beef cattle. Although Brent doesn’t farm – he owns a successful software company in Toledo – he has returned to his roots, purchasing the farmstead in 2002.
Though the barns look identical, the gambrel roofs matching remarkably, the barn on the left was moved here from Hudson, Michigan, a town in southern Michigan and about 30 miles away. With evidence of some hand-hewing and mortise and tenon joints, the barns may date to around 1900. Protected by impermeable metal roofs, they should stand for many more years – a testament to their builders and to the Brehms, who use them.
Brent Brehm and his wife Amanda own this five-acre farm, which includes these two large barns, connected to each other, but they don’t raise livestock unless bunnies and cats fall into that category. Brent’s dad, however, uses the barns to house about 50 head of beef cattle. Although Brent doesn’t farm – he owns a successful software company in Toledo – he has returned to his roots, purchasing the farmstead in 2002.
Though the barns look identical, the gambrel roofs matching remarkably, the barn on the left was moved here from Hudson, Michigan, a town in southern Michigan and about 30 miles away. With evidence of some hand-hewing and mortise and tenon joints, the barns may date to around 1900. Protected by impermeable metal roofs, they should stand for many more years – a testament to their builders and to the Brehms, who use them.
“Brehm’s Man Door”
I’m a sucker for pottery, old barns with sagging roofs and missing boards, antiques … and rustic man doors – like this one in the Aaron Brehm barn. Though not all old barns have them and though many of them aren’t all that dramatic, this one is – with two halves, old metal hinges, and a wooden latch – all framed by weathered wood, showing streaks of gray, brown, and burnt sienna. With its semicircular design, it’s often called a devil door, fairly common in northwest Ohio barns.
Built for inclement weather, the man door allowed easy entrance into the barn – rather than having to swing open the large barn doors. Man doors came in handy in times of heavy snow or a torrential downpours and, if this one could talk, he could probably share a lot of stories.
I’m a sucker for pottery, old barns with sagging roofs and missing boards, antiques … and rustic man doors – like this one in the Aaron Brehm barn. Though not all old barns have them and though many of them aren’t all that dramatic, this one is – with two halves, old metal hinges, and a wooden latch – all framed by weathered wood, showing streaks of gray, brown, and burnt sienna. With its semicircular design, it’s often called a devil door, fairly common in northwest Ohio barns.
Built for inclement weather, the man door allowed easy entrance into the barn – rather than having to swing open the large barn doors. Man doors came in handy in times of heavy snow or a torrential downpours and, if this one could talk, he could probably share a lot of stories.
“Devil Doors”
Aaron and Angela Brehm own this barn, which they purchased, along with five acres, for storage. Like their parents, they raise cattle as well a some sheep. Though there are some hand-hewn beams and some half-logs – which may have been reclaimed from an earlier barn – this barn probably was built around 1900.
One small door, “a man door,” intrigued me enough to do its painting, especially because the design was a typical “devil door” – also painting on other doors of an old milk house in the barn. This reflects a German origin – the red painted arches on the doors. The many Germans, who settled in Pennsylvania and the Midwest and, in particular, in northwestern Ohio, brought this style with them. Some barns, painted white, had blue arches and others, painted red, had white arches – or vice versa.
Aaron and Angela Brehm own this barn, which they purchased, along with five acres, for storage. Like their parents, they raise cattle as well a some sheep. Though there are some hand-hewn beams and some half-logs – which may have been reclaimed from an earlier barn – this barn probably was built around 1900.
One small door, “a man door,” intrigued me enough to do its painting, especially because the design was a typical “devil door” – also painting on other doors of an old milk house in the barn. This reflects a German origin – the red painted arches on the doors. The many Germans, who settled in Pennsylvania and the Midwest and, in particular, in northwestern Ohio, brought this style with them. Some barns, painted white, had blue arches and others, painted red, had white arches – or vice versa.
“Brehm’s Bounty”
As Grace and Randy Brehm, my two official Fulton County barn scouts, guided me from one old barn to another, they made sure to include theirs … and that of their son Aaron … and that of their son Brent, which led to the title of this painting, “Brehm’s Bounty.” All too often, children in farm families succumb to wanderlust and leave home in search of new and exciting places. Sometimes, those places turn out to be less than the kids had hoped for, prompting them to head home. Sometimes not.
Randy’s dad owned this historic barn in the 1950s and sold it to Randy and Grace in 1976. They grow hay and raise 80 head of cattle, a few dozen of which greeted us as we explored the barn. Despite three later additions, the barn probably traces back to the era before the Civil War – possibly around 1837, which is when this area was settled.
As Grace and Randy Brehm, my two official Fulton County barn scouts, guided me from one old barn to another, they made sure to include theirs … and that of their son Aaron … and that of their son Brent, which led to the title of this painting, “Brehm’s Bounty.” All too often, children in farm families succumb to wanderlust and leave home in search of new and exciting places. Sometimes, those places turn out to be less than the kids had hoped for, prompting them to head home. Sometimes not.
Randy’s dad owned this historic barn in the 1950s and sold it to Randy and Grace in 1976. They grow hay and raise 80 head of cattle, a few dozen of which greeted us as we explored the barn. Despite three later additions, the barn probably traces back to the era before the Civil War – possibly around 1837, which is when this area was settled.
“Bean Creek”
Every now and then a name strikes me as being quintessential Americana, reminding me of times long ago – when horses were used instead of automobiled, when encyclopedias gave us information instead of a searchs on the Internet, and when people actually spoke to each other at a meal instead of studying their smart phones. The Bean Creek Valley History Center, its name displayed in gold stenciling on the center’s glass window, took me back to that era. And, of course, it was located on Main Street, actually on West Main Street, Fayette, Ohio.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Every now and then a name strikes me as being quintessential Americana, reminding me of times long ago – when horses were used instead of automobiled, when encyclopedias gave us information instead of a searchs on the Internet, and when people actually spoke to each other at a meal instead of studying their smart phones. The Bean Creek Valley History Center, its name displayed in gold stenciling on the center’s glass window, took me back to that era. And, of course, it was located on Main Street, actually on West Main Street, Fayette, Ohio.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
GALLIA
“Bob’s Place”
Nestled in the hills of another of Ohio’s Appalachian counties is the Bob Evans Farm, which furnished the barn for Ohio’s bicentennial logo painting and which, I thought, would be a good one for my Ohio Barn Project as well. Though I had planned to visit during their annual farm festival – which attracts 30,000 – I reconsidered and visited a week earlier. Even then, tents and trailers lined the grassy fields beneath the old barn and this old homestead, as it prepared to host hordes of visitors. My grandson Henry and I visited this iconic homestead on a sunny October morning, one with relatively few cars in the parking lot.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Nestled in the hills of another of Ohio’s Appalachian counties is the Bob Evans Farm, which furnished the barn for Ohio’s bicentennial logo painting and which, I thought, would be a good one for my Ohio Barn Project as well. Though I had planned to visit during their annual farm festival – which attracts 30,000 – I reconsidered and visited a week earlier. Even then, tents and trailers lined the grassy fields beneath the old barn and this old homestead, as it prepared to host hordes of visitors. My grandson Henry and I visited this iconic homestead on a sunny October morning, one with relatively few cars in the parking lot.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
GEAUGA
“Trophy Husband”
After exploring Ashtabula and Trumbull counties years ago, I was anxious to see Geauga County and its barns, especially because the name of the county traces back to “Sheauga,” meaning “raccoon,” a name the Native tribes gave to the rivers in this part, notably the Grand River, which begins in this county and eventually empties into Lake Erie. The local historical society put me in touch with Dee Belew, who wanted me to see her barn.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
After exploring Ashtabula and Trumbull counties years ago, I was anxious to see Geauga County and its barns, especially because the name of the county traces back to “Sheauga,” meaning “raccoon,” a name the Native tribes gave to the rivers in this part, notably the Grand River, which begins in this county and eventually empties into Lake Erie. The local historical society put me in touch with Dee Belew, who wanted me to see her barn.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
GREENE
"Caesar's Freedom"
This is yet another barn tracing to the Spahr family. One must wonder why, in 1749, that Hans Ulrich Spahr left Basil, Switzerland with his wife Margaret Seyler Spahr and 12 children to immigrate to America, then mostly a British colony, though the French and Spanish both had their hooks in the new land. But, like so many Europeans, they might have felt they’d have a better life in the new country.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
This is yet another barn tracing to the Spahr family. One must wonder why, in 1749, that Hans Ulrich Spahr left Basil, Switzerland with his wife Margaret Seyler Spahr and 12 children to immigrate to America, then mostly a British colony, though the French and Spanish both had their hooks in the new land. But, like so many Europeans, they might have felt they’d have a better life in the new country.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
"The Legacy"
Mary Spahr, my Greene County barn scout, contacted me in the summer of 2016 when she discovered, by pure chance, that an essay of mine about a barn and farm in Highland County had some incorrect information. I won’t go into detail about this – since it’s involved – but it acquainted Mary with my work and prompted her to ask me to paint barns in her county – for a fundraiser. And Mary’s lineage and that of her husband Jim goes back a long way. Mary’s kin trace back to when her ancestors came to Highland County in the late 1700s but Jim’s roots run deep in Greene County, evidenced by the road where they live that bears the Spahr name. Click here for the rest of the story.
Mary Spahr, my Greene County barn scout, contacted me in the summer of 2016 when she discovered, by pure chance, that an essay of mine about a barn and farm in Highland County had some incorrect information. I won’t go into detail about this – since it’s involved – but it acquainted Mary with my work and prompted her to ask me to paint barns in her county – for a fundraiser. And Mary’s lineage and that of her husband Jim goes back a long way. Mary’s kin trace back to when her ancestors came to Highland County in the late 1700s but Jim’s roots run deep in Greene County, evidenced by the road where they live that bears the Spahr name. Click here for the rest of the story.
GUERNSEY
“Labor of Love”
I’ve done paintings of a lot of old barns that feature the Harley Warrick Mail Pouch logo, but I’ve never seen it on a covered bridge. So, during my drive out of Muskingum County – after painting the barn owned by the McDonalds – I passed through a thin slice of Guernsey County and saw this oddity. Even though I had a long drive ahead of me to Perry County and its three round barns, I had to stop for a look. Yes, methinks, this is not a barn, but it’s still an Ohio treasure – a covered bridge with Harley’s imprint. So I pulled off to the side of the road, did a value sketch, and took photos, hoping to discover a story later.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
I’ve done paintings of a lot of old barns that feature the Harley Warrick Mail Pouch logo, but I’ve never seen it on a covered bridge. So, during my drive out of Muskingum County – after painting the barn owned by the McDonalds – I passed through a thin slice of Guernsey County and saw this oddity. Even though I had a long drive ahead of me to Perry County and its three round barns, I had to stop for a look. Yes, methinks, this is not a barn, but it’s still an Ohio treasure – a covered bridge with Harley’s imprint. So I pulled off to the side of the road, did a value sketch, and took photos, hoping to discover a story later.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
HAMILTON
“Montgomery’s Puzzle”
Finding this old barn represents the meaning of serendipity in its truest sense. In early September, 2020, my wife Laura asked me to enter our suburb’s annual holiday art contest. My reply was that I was heavily involved in a project on America’s round barns. Her reply was that Montgomery had plenty of old historic buildings. My reply was that I just wasn’t interested.
After a week of guilty feelings, I remembered seeing an old barn across the road from where my late wife and I raised our children in the 1980s. I wondered if it happened to be still standing. A few days later, I drove by, delighted to see it again. From a distance, the barn – nothing special at first sight – appeared to be circa early 20th century. Nothing special, I thought, but worth checking out. So I approached a group of men near the barn and asked if one was the owner. “Yes, I am,” one of them replied. After explaining my Ohio Barn Project, I asked if he’d take me inside. As we entered through the tiny door-inside-the-big door (often called a “man-door”), a rarity in old barns, a throwback to medieval times when wickets were used, small, narrow doors inside or next to either a castle’s large double doors or the entry gates of a city. In the case of an old barn, entering through a “man door” would be easier than trying to pull open large barn doors, especially in inclement weather. The long iron hinges were old, too.
Once inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The entire barn, a small two-bay English one, typical of the pre-Civil War era in the Midwest, was timber-framed: hand-hewn oak beams, some 30-50 feet long, mortise and tenon joints, and wooden pegs, still in place after 150-200 years. I told Tom Baker, the new owner at the time, that this barn was extremely historic, especially in a suburb, where houses built in the 1960s were being torn down – due to lack of vacant lots – for larger contemporary homes. CLICK HERE FOR THE REST OF THE STORY
Finding this old barn represents the meaning of serendipity in its truest sense. In early September, 2020, my wife Laura asked me to enter our suburb’s annual holiday art contest. My reply was that I was heavily involved in a project on America’s round barns. Her reply was that Montgomery had plenty of old historic buildings. My reply was that I just wasn’t interested.
After a week of guilty feelings, I remembered seeing an old barn across the road from where my late wife and I raised our children in the 1980s. I wondered if it happened to be still standing. A few days later, I drove by, delighted to see it again. From a distance, the barn – nothing special at first sight – appeared to be circa early 20th century. Nothing special, I thought, but worth checking out. So I approached a group of men near the barn and asked if one was the owner. “Yes, I am,” one of them replied. After explaining my Ohio Barn Project, I asked if he’d take me inside. As we entered through the tiny door-inside-the-big door (often called a “man-door”), a rarity in old barns, a throwback to medieval times when wickets were used, small, narrow doors inside or next to either a castle’s large double doors or the entry gates of a city. In the case of an old barn, entering through a “man door” would be easier than trying to pull open large barn doors, especially in inclement weather. The long iron hinges were old, too.
Once inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The entire barn, a small two-bay English one, typical of the pre-Civil War era in the Midwest, was timber-framed: hand-hewn oak beams, some 30-50 feet long, mortise and tenon joints, and wooden pegs, still in place after 150-200 years. I told Tom Baker, the new owner at the time, that this barn was extremely historic, especially in a suburb, where houses built in the 1960s were being torn down – due to lack of vacant lots – for larger contemporary homes. CLICK HERE FOR THE REST OF THE STORY
"Oasis in Suburbia"
Old barns in the suburbs often don’t merit much attention outside their immediate location and the Anderson barn was no different, despite volunteers and a vibrant historical society. I had never heard of it until two ladies, Janet Quilligan and Lexie Stevenson, came to an event I did for the Warren County Historical Society in June, 2021. They brought photos and brochures, pitching their case and hoping I’d decide to visit. It wasn’t a difficult decision.
Though the barn isn’t terribly old – probably built between 1890 and 1910 – it’s in remarkably good condition for being a century old and it serves, along with the log house, as a focal point for the many gardeners who visit often to tend to their vegetables. And the farmstead is steeped in history.
The 11 acres of this farm were once part of a 440-acre parcel purchased by Ichabod Benton Miller on April 2, 1796. Even earlier, this land was in the 600 acres owned by Captain Matthew Jouitt, an officer in the Revolutionary War. That deed was dated June 9, 1793. Miller eventually sold the log house and 15 acres, which passed throughout the 19th century from one family to another before Joseph Leuser bought it in 1907. Joseph’s son Lawrence and his wife Emma moved into the log house in 1910 and spent almost all of their over 50-year marriage in it. The historical society purchased the house and land in 1971. Though many old log homes have been moved or dismantled – their beams sold – this one remains in its original location. It was listed on the National Register in 1974.
In the early 1900s this barn was part of a 37-acre farm owned by Edward and Minnie Bartels and located just north of the log house. Edward’s younger brother William purchased the farm and sold the farmhouse and two acres to Joseph Browne in 1943. In 1998 Browne’s heirs sold the house and five acres to the historical society. Later, in 2005, the society made another purchase, this one including the barn and six acres to complete its suburban farmstead.
Anderson Urban Farm became a division of the historical society in 2018 and began operating over 75 garden plots, whose rental cost includes membership in the society. Two years later the farm started a chicken cooperative, bringing a slice of farm life into the suburbs – raising chickens and harvesting their eggs, all without the hassle of owning them. Volunteers commit to a one-year program.
The farmstead has become a valuable ingredient of this township. As Janet related, “I've seen tears of joy from an elderly woman who saw bluebirds nesting at the farm. We've had children scrambling up the branches of our beautiful beech tree. Grandchildren garden with their grandparents. Teachers from the two schools next door walk over with their students and use the farm as an outdoor classroom.”
Though the barn’s red paint has weathered, its siding remains solid and its two large cupolas provide adequate ventilation. A metal roof guarantees many more decades of viability and numerous volunteers have turned this farm into an agricultural oasis in the midst of suburbia.
Old barns in the suburbs often don’t merit much attention outside their immediate location and the Anderson barn was no different, despite volunteers and a vibrant historical society. I had never heard of it until two ladies, Janet Quilligan and Lexie Stevenson, came to an event I did for the Warren County Historical Society in June, 2021. They brought photos and brochures, pitching their case and hoping I’d decide to visit. It wasn’t a difficult decision.
Though the barn isn’t terribly old – probably built between 1890 and 1910 – it’s in remarkably good condition for being a century old and it serves, along with the log house, as a focal point for the many gardeners who visit often to tend to their vegetables. And the farmstead is steeped in history.
The 11 acres of this farm were once part of a 440-acre parcel purchased by Ichabod Benton Miller on April 2, 1796. Even earlier, this land was in the 600 acres owned by Captain Matthew Jouitt, an officer in the Revolutionary War. That deed was dated June 9, 1793. Miller eventually sold the log house and 15 acres, which passed throughout the 19th century from one family to another before Joseph Leuser bought it in 1907. Joseph’s son Lawrence and his wife Emma moved into the log house in 1910 and spent almost all of their over 50-year marriage in it. The historical society purchased the house and land in 1971. Though many old log homes have been moved or dismantled – their beams sold – this one remains in its original location. It was listed on the National Register in 1974.
In the early 1900s this barn was part of a 37-acre farm owned by Edward and Minnie Bartels and located just north of the log house. Edward’s younger brother William purchased the farm and sold the farmhouse and two acres to Joseph Browne in 1943. In 1998 Browne’s heirs sold the house and five acres to the historical society. Later, in 2005, the society made another purchase, this one including the barn and six acres to complete its suburban farmstead.
Anderson Urban Farm became a division of the historical society in 2018 and began operating over 75 garden plots, whose rental cost includes membership in the society. Two years later the farm started a chicken cooperative, bringing a slice of farm life into the suburbs – raising chickens and harvesting their eggs, all without the hassle of owning them. Volunteers commit to a one-year program.
The farmstead has become a valuable ingredient of this township. As Janet related, “I've seen tears of joy from an elderly woman who saw bluebirds nesting at the farm. We've had children scrambling up the branches of our beautiful beech tree. Grandchildren garden with their grandparents. Teachers from the two schools next door walk over with their students and use the farm as an outdoor classroom.”
Though the barn’s red paint has weathered, its siding remains solid and its two large cupolas provide adequate ventilation. A metal roof guarantees many more decades of viability and numerous volunteers have turned this farm into an agricultural oasis in the midst of suburbia.
“Winding Creek Memories”
With nearly 20 square miles of trees, hills and valleys, and meandering streams, the Village of Indian Hill, founded in 1795, still boasts an abundance of old barns. One massive one, closeby, lies on the Greenacres Farm, where a friend and I visited during its annual autumn art show. After leaving the event and beginning to drive on Spooky Hollow Road, we noticed this old barn, shadows falling, its gray siding weathered, begging to be painted.
The Village of Indian Hill, with 60 percent of households recording annual income of more than $150,000, ranks as the wealthiest community in Ohio and the 12th most affluent in America. However in the early 1800s it was a farming community, later a summer retreat for weekend getaways for Cincinnatians, and eventually a well-to-do suburb. It’s a rarity in that there is no commercial district: the entire village is zoned as single-family residential or agricultural.
The Greenacres property was built by the Fleischmann family 1924 as part of what Julius called the Winding Creek Farm. He wanted a wooded estate for country living, away from the bustling life of downtown Cincinnati. He also wanted to hunt foxes.
His grandfather, Charles Louis Fleischmann, had grown up in Eastern Europe and learned the craft of making yeast before he arrived in Cincinnati in the 1860s. Seizing an opportunity, he and his brother Max founded the Fleischmann Yeast Company in Cincinnati’s Riverside district in 1868. By 1900 the company had 14 manufacturing factories and had become the world’s leading producer of yeast, the second largest producer of vinegar, and the distiller of Fleischmann’s gin.
At the young age of 22, Julius, Charles Fleischmann’s son, took over the family business, invested in thoroughbred horses, and became Cincinnati’s youngest mayor at age 28. Under him, the business continued to thrive and when his son, Julius Jr., assumed control at only 24, he was ready for privacy, something that didn’t interest his father.
In fact, Julius Jr. was part of a group of wealthy investors who secretly bought thousands of acres of farmland northeast of Cincinnati and created Indian Hill, carving the land into sprawling estates. Fleischman, still single at the time, used two square miles of his own land to form Winding Creek Farm, where he built a daunting limestone Normandy-style mansion, complete with moat, cobblestone courtyard, and fountain. In 1924 it was the cream of the crop in the region.
However, after Fleischmann's death in 1968, his estate deteriorated, eventually becoming vacant. Next door to the old barn in my painting was another estate, this one the home of Louis and Louise Nippert, part of another Cincinnati pedigree: Louis Nippert was the great-grandson of Procter & Gamble founder James N. Gamble. In 1949 they bought this land, the Greenacres Farm, from the Green family. But, as they aged – with no children to pass their wealth onto – Louise Nippert established the Greenacres Foundation in 1988. Ten years later, the foundation purchased Fleishmann’s Winding Creek Farm, including the sprawling mansion and a massive barn, increasing the Greenacres land to 600 acres, with plans to convert it to a horseback riding center, a working farm with livestock and crops, and educational forum for schoolchildren, and an art center. In 1998 the Nippert Charitable Foundation funded the complete restoration of the Fleishmann property, a project costing millions. Open now to the public on occasion, the property takes one back in time to the days of an affluent gentleman farmer.
However, the barn in the painting was not part of the Winding Creek Farm nor of the Green family farm; it was just another reminder of the land that was farmed in this now wealthy suburb. Built into a bank and on top of a sandstone foundation, the barn appears to be well cared for, evidenced by a greenish metal roof. Vines, cascading down the barn’s western flank, partially obscure its eight-on-eight paned windows, a clue that this farmer, too, was one of substantial means. And, even though the local historical society could not provide the barn’s history or ownership, being located next door to Fleishman’s estate, it serves as memories of what was once Winding Creek Farm.
With nearly 20 square miles of trees, hills and valleys, and meandering streams, the Village of Indian Hill, founded in 1795, still boasts an abundance of old barns. One massive one, closeby, lies on the Greenacres Farm, where a friend and I visited during its annual autumn art show. After leaving the event and beginning to drive on Spooky Hollow Road, we noticed this old barn, shadows falling, its gray siding weathered, begging to be painted.
The Village of Indian Hill, with 60 percent of households recording annual income of more than $150,000, ranks as the wealthiest community in Ohio and the 12th most affluent in America. However in the early 1800s it was a farming community, later a summer retreat for weekend getaways for Cincinnatians, and eventually a well-to-do suburb. It’s a rarity in that there is no commercial district: the entire village is zoned as single-family residential or agricultural.
The Greenacres property was built by the Fleischmann family 1924 as part of what Julius called the Winding Creek Farm. He wanted a wooded estate for country living, away from the bustling life of downtown Cincinnati. He also wanted to hunt foxes.
His grandfather, Charles Louis Fleischmann, had grown up in Eastern Europe and learned the craft of making yeast before he arrived in Cincinnati in the 1860s. Seizing an opportunity, he and his brother Max founded the Fleischmann Yeast Company in Cincinnati’s Riverside district in 1868. By 1900 the company had 14 manufacturing factories and had become the world’s leading producer of yeast, the second largest producer of vinegar, and the distiller of Fleischmann’s gin.
At the young age of 22, Julius, Charles Fleischmann’s son, took over the family business, invested in thoroughbred horses, and became Cincinnati’s youngest mayor at age 28. Under him, the business continued to thrive and when his son, Julius Jr., assumed control at only 24, he was ready for privacy, something that didn’t interest his father.
In fact, Julius Jr. was part of a group of wealthy investors who secretly bought thousands of acres of farmland northeast of Cincinnati and created Indian Hill, carving the land into sprawling estates. Fleischman, still single at the time, used two square miles of his own land to form Winding Creek Farm, where he built a daunting limestone Normandy-style mansion, complete with moat, cobblestone courtyard, and fountain. In 1924 it was the cream of the crop in the region.
However, after Fleischmann's death in 1968, his estate deteriorated, eventually becoming vacant. Next door to the old barn in my painting was another estate, this one the home of Louis and Louise Nippert, part of another Cincinnati pedigree: Louis Nippert was the great-grandson of Procter & Gamble founder James N. Gamble. In 1949 they bought this land, the Greenacres Farm, from the Green family. But, as they aged – with no children to pass their wealth onto – Louise Nippert established the Greenacres Foundation in 1988. Ten years later, the foundation purchased Fleishmann’s Winding Creek Farm, including the sprawling mansion and a massive barn, increasing the Greenacres land to 600 acres, with plans to convert it to a horseback riding center, a working farm with livestock and crops, and educational forum for schoolchildren, and an art center. In 1998 the Nippert Charitable Foundation funded the complete restoration of the Fleishmann property, a project costing millions. Open now to the public on occasion, the property takes one back in time to the days of an affluent gentleman farmer.
However, the barn in the painting was not part of the Winding Creek Farm nor of the Green family farm; it was just another reminder of the land that was farmed in this now wealthy suburb. Built into a bank and on top of a sandstone foundation, the barn appears to be well cared for, evidenced by a greenish metal roof. Vines, cascading down the barn’s western flank, partially obscure its eight-on-eight paned windows, a clue that this farmer, too, was one of substantial means. And, even though the local historical society could not provide the barn’s history or ownership, being located next door to Fleishman’s estate, it serves as memories of what was once Winding Creek Farm.
"Springhouse in Shadows"
This stone springhouse sits at the foot of the 1835 Gorman barn, next to a stream, which, when I visited, was full of water, soaking the ground. It may be the only 19th-century springhouse still standing in Hamilton County.
This stone springhouse sits at the foot of the 1835 Gorman barn, next to a stream, which, when I visited, was full of water, soaking the ground. It may be the only 19th-century springhouse still standing in Hamilton County.
“Gorman Heritage Farm, the 1911 Barn”
Pete Gorman built this wooden barn in 1911, a “newer” one though now over a century old, since he probably needed more storage since farming this land had been so successful. Located a short distance from both the farmhouse and the old barn, it had doors big enough for hay wagons to enter and plenty of room to store alfalfa, which is why, according to family history, it was built.
When you ask Ohio farmers what crops they grow, almost all cite these three: hay, corn, and soybeans. Why then did the Gorman farm raise alfalfa in 1911? The plant wasn’t well suited to cold winters, having migrated north after being introduced in the southwestern United Sates in the early 1800s. However, a German immigrant, Wendelin Grimm, who settled in Minnesota in 1857, planted it and didn’t give up on the crop even though the first several winters were brutally frigid. Grimm persevered and, as his luck would have it, developed, through the process of natural selection, a strain of alfalfa hardy enough to withstand cold. His discovery enabled other farmers to grow this crop in the northern states and Canada.
Gorman probably used the alfalfa as forage for his livestock: the old horse-powered rope-and-pulley track system for moving loose hay can still be seen in the barn. Later, Jim Gorman extended an addition for a shelter for animals, including sheep. Renovations were done in 1998.
I’m glad I finally made it to Gorman Heritage Farm and that I’ve been able to capture the barns in paintings and an essay. In today’s suburban scene, it’s rare to find a 122-acre farm, much less one with such educational value and with two old barns still intact. Thanks must go to the Cunninghams, the Browns, the barn builders, stone masons, and, of course, the Gormans, especially Jim and Dorothy, who selflessly turned down a multi-million dollar developer’s offer, instead committing the barns and land to education and farming, as well as the Village of Evendale for their stewardship and dedication to this historic property. To all of them, the people of Cincinnati and all barn lovers owe a debt of gratitude. By capturing these barns in paint and word and by framing these paintings in wood from the farm, I’ve repaid a little. Others, who attend the farm’s annual fundraising dinner, do the same.
Pete Gorman built this wooden barn in 1911, a “newer” one though now over a century old, since he probably needed more storage since farming this land had been so successful. Located a short distance from both the farmhouse and the old barn, it had doors big enough for hay wagons to enter and plenty of room to store alfalfa, which is why, according to family history, it was built.
When you ask Ohio farmers what crops they grow, almost all cite these three: hay, corn, and soybeans. Why then did the Gorman farm raise alfalfa in 1911? The plant wasn’t well suited to cold winters, having migrated north after being introduced in the southwestern United Sates in the early 1800s. However, a German immigrant, Wendelin Grimm, who settled in Minnesota in 1857, planted it and didn’t give up on the crop even though the first several winters were brutally frigid. Grimm persevered and, as his luck would have it, developed, through the process of natural selection, a strain of alfalfa hardy enough to withstand cold. His discovery enabled other farmers to grow this crop in the northern states and Canada.
Gorman probably used the alfalfa as forage for his livestock: the old horse-powered rope-and-pulley track system for moving loose hay can still be seen in the barn. Later, Jim Gorman extended an addition for a shelter for animals, including sheep. Renovations were done in 1998.
I’m glad I finally made it to Gorman Heritage Farm and that I’ve been able to capture the barns in paintings and an essay. In today’s suburban scene, it’s rare to find a 122-acre farm, much less one with such educational value and with two old barns still intact. Thanks must go to the Cunninghams, the Browns, the barn builders, stone masons, and, of course, the Gormans, especially Jim and Dorothy, who selflessly turned down a multi-million dollar developer’s offer, instead committing the barns and land to education and farming, as well as the Village of Evendale for their stewardship and dedication to this historic property. To all of them, the people of Cincinnati and all barn lovers owe a debt of gratitude. By capturing these barns in paint and word and by framing these paintings in wood from the farm, I’ve repaid a little. Others, who attend the farm’s annual fundraising dinner, do the same.
HANCOCK
“Dreams Come True”
Judy Garland sang it in 1939 and the song won the Academy Award. The classic Over the Rainbow, written by Yip Harburg and composed by Harold Arlen, was featured in the movie, The Wizard of Oz, and launched the career of Miss Garland. Two years later America entered WWII. But, for old folks like me, the lyrics still hold sentimental value, bringing back the image of Dorothy and Toto.
“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Judy Garland sang it in 1939 and the song won the Academy Award. The classic Over the Rainbow, written by Yip Harburg and composed by Harold Arlen, was featured in the movie, The Wizard of Oz, and launched the career of Miss Garland. Two years later America entered WWII. But, for old folks like me, the lyrics still hold sentimental value, bringing back the image of Dorothy and Toto.
“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
“A Barn Builder’s Beauty”
This barn, built circa 1880 and owned by Annette and David Kerr, was featured on Hancock County’s barn tour in September, 2022. I was fortunate enough to do an event – painting demo, barn stories, and book signings – inside the barn during the tour. The Kerrs, gracious hosts, were kind enough to offer their barn to the public as visitors came and went for several hours. David gave me some barn siding, which I’ll use to frame another painting of the barn – for a fundraiser.
William Carr settled the farmstead in 1836 and may have been a relative of Jacob Carr, who found gas while drilling for a water well in the 1830s. Fifty years later, when Dr. Charles Oesterlin, a local physician, learned about Carr’s discovery, he also tried to find natural gas and found it in 1884 when he sunk a well 1,092 feet deep. The flame shot up 30 feet high, encouraging others to follow. And they did. By the beginning of 1886 the city of Findlay had 17 operating gas wells, which attracted visitors, but not much in terms of commerce. That changed when the Great Karg Well was drilled in January, 1886, at that time the largest gas well in the world.
By this time, the Bower family had purchased the farm (1871) and may have tapped a few wells as other farmers did in these years. Jacob Bower, born in Germany, eventually settled in Van Buren Township, raised a family of seven children, and built this barn to house livestock and store crops. Unfortunately, many barn builders of the 19th century aren’t given credit for their work. Despite not having college degrees in construction, engineering, or architecture, they could build a timber-framed barn – without power tools or modern cranes – that would last for centuries – as this one has.
From a barn architect’s standpoint, it’s a gem. In the center of the barn there’s a chamfered “brag post” with beveled edges, hinting at the owner’s prosperity. Stacked bevels at the top and bottom of the post are known as “lamb’s tongues.” Other interesting details are “fish belly” cross ties, which are also called “swell” beams – narrower on the ends and wider in the middle. They offer extra support to counterbalance strong winds, which often blow along these open fields, some as flat as the eye can see – the antithesis of southeastern Ohio’s Appalachian hills and dales.
The threshing floor, well preserved in center bays, offers another glimpse into the expertise of the barn builder. The grooved-edge planks, laid side by side, have small boards, “splines,” driven into the grooves, which seal the cracks, preventing grain from getting lost. Other features include the original hay track and exposed tie beams, visible on the barn’s exterior.
Jacob Bower died in 1909, aged 91, an extremely long life in those days, and the farm left the Bower family when the Innigers purchased it in 1924. They owned it for over 70 years, eventually selling it to the Kerrs in 1995. Fortunately, the Kerrs have a love for history and continue to maintain this historic barn, which preserves the memory of Jacob Bower, a masterful barn builder of a bygone era.
This barn, built circa 1880 and owned by Annette and David Kerr, was featured on Hancock County’s barn tour in September, 2022. I was fortunate enough to do an event – painting demo, barn stories, and book signings – inside the barn during the tour. The Kerrs, gracious hosts, were kind enough to offer their barn to the public as visitors came and went for several hours. David gave me some barn siding, which I’ll use to frame another painting of the barn – for a fundraiser.
William Carr settled the farmstead in 1836 and may have been a relative of Jacob Carr, who found gas while drilling for a water well in the 1830s. Fifty years later, when Dr. Charles Oesterlin, a local physician, learned about Carr’s discovery, he also tried to find natural gas and found it in 1884 when he sunk a well 1,092 feet deep. The flame shot up 30 feet high, encouraging others to follow. And they did. By the beginning of 1886 the city of Findlay had 17 operating gas wells, which attracted visitors, but not much in terms of commerce. That changed when the Great Karg Well was drilled in January, 1886, at that time the largest gas well in the world.
By this time, the Bower family had purchased the farm (1871) and may have tapped a few wells as other farmers did in these years. Jacob Bower, born in Germany, eventually settled in Van Buren Township, raised a family of seven children, and built this barn to house livestock and store crops. Unfortunately, many barn builders of the 19th century aren’t given credit for their work. Despite not having college degrees in construction, engineering, or architecture, they could build a timber-framed barn – without power tools or modern cranes – that would last for centuries – as this one has.
From a barn architect’s standpoint, it’s a gem. In the center of the barn there’s a chamfered “brag post” with beveled edges, hinting at the owner’s prosperity. Stacked bevels at the top and bottom of the post are known as “lamb’s tongues.” Other interesting details are “fish belly” cross ties, which are also called “swell” beams – narrower on the ends and wider in the middle. They offer extra support to counterbalance strong winds, which often blow along these open fields, some as flat as the eye can see – the antithesis of southeastern Ohio’s Appalachian hills and dales.
The threshing floor, well preserved in center bays, offers another glimpse into the expertise of the barn builder. The grooved-edge planks, laid side by side, have small boards, “splines,” driven into the grooves, which seal the cracks, preventing grain from getting lost. Other features include the original hay track and exposed tie beams, visible on the barn’s exterior.
Jacob Bower died in 1909, aged 91, an extremely long life in those days, and the farm left the Bower family when the Innigers purchased it in 1924. They owned it for over 70 years, eventually selling it to the Kerrs in 1995. Fortunately, the Kerrs have a love for history and continue to maintain this historic barn, which preserves the memory of Jacob Bower, a masterful barn builder of a bygone era.
“Arlington”
As barn scouts Dave and Gary and I were finishing our tour in April, we drove by this interesting barn, sitting aside Route 68, not far from a sign – Arlington, Flag Village USA. The barn’s gray weathered siding and its turquoise green roof made us stop, although we didn’t have much time left – just enough for a photo and value sketch. Gary said he knew the owner, Jon Musgrave, and would help with information.
The Village of Arlington, one of the county’s first and platted in 1844, with a population just over 1,400 souls, is not far from Findlay, where you can visit the old – the Hancock Historical Museum, housed in the 1881 Jasper Hull mansion – or the new, Findlay Brewing, established in 2010, a beer lovers paradise, offering a pint of Brilliant Blonde, Hopster Prynne, or Floodwater Stout. The village also takes its patriotic bent from Findlay, known as Flag City USA, a moniker bestowed when John B. Cooke moved to town in 1968. A member of the Sons of the American Revolution, Cooke purchased 14,000 small American flags and went door to door, asking folks to display them. It caught on, spreading to nearby Arlington, and today has become even more relevant, serving to remind all that the flag represents our independence and freedoms earned and protected by millions of servicemen and women since 1775.
The main part of the barn, constructed with hand-hewn timbers in 1890, likely taken from nearby woods, was used initially for cattle and horses. Jason explained that in the early days the barn sat next to a railroad line and the train would stop so that livestock could be slaughtered in the barn. Nothing like fresh filet mignon. Later, probably in the early 20th century, extensions – with sawn lumber – were added and, with more space, hogs were raised. Today the barn stores machinery, often the case when an old barn outgrows its usefulness.
Jon’s great-grandfather, Clarence Musgrave, acquired the farm in 1939 – the latter stages of the Great Depression – from the Orwick family. Mr. Orwick, Jon said, was a livestock dealer and ran a collective of sorts. Jon explained that Orwick “would ship out horses and other sorted livestock at the railroad crossing that is still located directly east of the barn. The old well they used is also there.” Jon became owner in 2017, admitting that the barn will probably be dismantled in the next few years. I’m glad we stopped, giving me a chance to capture this old one and a few of its memories – in the patriotic village of Arlington.
As barn scouts Dave and Gary and I were finishing our tour in April, we drove by this interesting barn, sitting aside Route 68, not far from a sign – Arlington, Flag Village USA. The barn’s gray weathered siding and its turquoise green roof made us stop, although we didn’t have much time left – just enough for a photo and value sketch. Gary said he knew the owner, Jon Musgrave, and would help with information.
The Village of Arlington, one of the county’s first and platted in 1844, with a population just over 1,400 souls, is not far from Findlay, where you can visit the old – the Hancock Historical Museum, housed in the 1881 Jasper Hull mansion – or the new, Findlay Brewing, established in 2010, a beer lovers paradise, offering a pint of Brilliant Blonde, Hopster Prynne, or Floodwater Stout. The village also takes its patriotic bent from Findlay, known as Flag City USA, a moniker bestowed when John B. Cooke moved to town in 1968. A member of the Sons of the American Revolution, Cooke purchased 14,000 small American flags and went door to door, asking folks to display them. It caught on, spreading to nearby Arlington, and today has become even more relevant, serving to remind all that the flag represents our independence and freedoms earned and protected by millions of servicemen and women since 1775.
The main part of the barn, constructed with hand-hewn timbers in 1890, likely taken from nearby woods, was used initially for cattle and horses. Jason explained that in the early days the barn sat next to a railroad line and the train would stop so that livestock could be slaughtered in the barn. Nothing like fresh filet mignon. Later, probably in the early 20th century, extensions – with sawn lumber – were added and, with more space, hogs were raised. Today the barn stores machinery, often the case when an old barn outgrows its usefulness.
Jon’s great-grandfather, Clarence Musgrave, acquired the farm in 1939 – the latter stages of the Great Depression – from the Orwick family. Mr. Orwick, Jon said, was a livestock dealer and ran a collective of sorts. Jon explained that Orwick “would ship out horses and other sorted livestock at the railroad crossing that is still located directly east of the barn. The old well they used is also there.” Jon became owner in 2017, admitting that the barn will probably be dismantled in the next few years. I’m glad we stopped, giving me a chance to capture this old one and a few of its memories – in the patriotic village of Arlington.
HARDIN
“Kenton’s Country”
This large dairy barn sits next to the fairgrounds of Hardin County and serves as both an agricultural museum and an event center. Only minutes from the center of Kenton, the county seat, I began thinking about one of my favorite early Ohioans, Simon Kenton, the swashbuckling frontier fighter.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
This large dairy barn sits next to the fairgrounds of Hardin County and serves as both an agricultural museum and an event center. Only minutes from the center of Kenton, the county seat, I began thinking about one of my favorite early Ohioans, Simon Kenton, the swashbuckling frontier fighter.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
HARRISON
“Workley’s Wonder”
The Harrison County visitor center thinks enough of this round barn to put its striking photo in its brochures as well as in those of other Ohio’s counties. Originally, I discovered it in the Dale Travis Ohio round building website. It’s been on my bucket list for years. But it’s not easy to find.
Fortunately the historical society gave me the contact information of the barn’s owners, Judy and Ollie Workley, whom I called. Judy, 78, had just celebrated 61 years of marriage to Ollie, who, she said, also made picture frames out of barn wood. They were interested.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
The Harrison County visitor center thinks enough of this round barn to put its striking photo in its brochures as well as in those of other Ohio’s counties. Originally, I discovered it in the Dale Travis Ohio round building website. It’s been on my bucket list for years. But it’s not easy to find.
Fortunately the historical society gave me the contact information of the barn’s owners, Judy and Ollie Workley, whom I called. Judy, 78, had just celebrated 61 years of marriage to Ollie, who, she said, also made picture frames out of barn wood. They were interested.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
HENRY
"George's Giant"
It’s been called a Chinese barn and, although it resembles a Chinese pagoda, it remains a grand old American barn, one that bit the dust many years ago.
This area of northwestern Ohio was formerly known as the Great Black Swamp was a huge wetland, thanks to the glaciers, stretching from Lake Erie – east of Toledo – and westward through Henry County and into Indiana – near present-day Fort Wayne. It was a land of forests, grasslands, and wetlands and, not only did the swampy conditions affect travel, the area was a breeding ground for mosquitos, causing malaria. The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
It’s been called a Chinese barn and, although it resembles a Chinese pagoda, it remains a grand old American barn, one that bit the dust many years ago.
This area of northwestern Ohio was formerly known as the Great Black Swamp was a huge wetland, thanks to the glaciers, stretching from Lake Erie – east of Toledo – and westward through Henry County and into Indiana – near present-day Fort Wayne. It was a land of forests, grasslands, and wetlands and, not only did the swampy conditions affect travel, the area was a breeding ground for mosquitos, causing malaria. The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
HIGHLAND
"Hunting Mushrooms"
This large banked barn was the first one I visited in Highland County. It's located on Millstone Creek Farm, named for the many mills, gristmills and sawmills, lining nearby Clear Creek. The barn dates to the late 1800s and comes with a fascinating history and colorful story. Original barn wood frames the painting.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
This large banked barn was the first one I visited in Highland County. It's located on Millstone Creek Farm, named for the many mills, gristmills and sawmills, lining nearby Clear Creek. The barn dates to the late 1800s and comes with a fascinating history and colorful story. Original barn wood frames the painting.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
HOCKING
“White Chickens”
Hocking County, named for the scenic river that passes through it from the northwest to the southeast, is known for its famous Old Man Cave, majestic rock formations, gorges, cliffs, and cascading waterfalls, all located in Hocking State Park. On the eastern side of the county lies part of Wayne National Forest, which, with all three of its sections combined, offers over 300 miles of trails, covering a quarter million acres of forested Appalachia.
However, the county, despite its hills and plentiful trees, is full of old barns, many of which show their age. Prior to my visit, barn scout Nyla, who helps run the Hocking County historical society, a complex of six museums, located several old barns. But, since this was my last stop on a whirlwind tour of southern Ohio, I had time to see only three. The Mail Pouch barn was the most interesting.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Hocking County, named for the scenic river that passes through it from the northwest to the southeast, is known for its famous Old Man Cave, majestic rock formations, gorges, cliffs, and cascading waterfalls, all located in Hocking State Park. On the eastern side of the county lies part of Wayne National Forest, which, with all three of its sections combined, offers over 300 miles of trails, covering a quarter million acres of forested Appalachia.
However, the county, despite its hills and plentiful trees, is full of old barns, many of which show their age. Prior to my visit, barn scout Nyla, who helps run the Hocking County historical society, a complex of six museums, located several old barns. But, since this was my last stop on a whirlwind tour of southern Ohio, I had time to see only three. The Mail Pouch barn was the most interesting.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
“Forsaken, Not Forgotten”
Barn scout Nyla found this old barn, still barely standing, which, as I told her, was exactly the kind I’m interested in. Its boards, warped and missing, and its patched metal roof – with a few areas unpatched – tell a story of long ago when it was built in the early 1800s. Unfortunately, due to a time crunch, we didn’t inspect its interior. A little drive-through corn barn – at least that’s what it looks like – stands behind it and two add-ons hint that, at least for awhile, the farm was prosperous. It sits next to Starr Road.
Nina Inboden owns the barn, having acquired it from Arthur and Dorothy Kalklosch. They raised cattle and sheep, though they stopped the cattle business in the 1950s. When Art died in 2007, at 95, they stopped raising sheep. Today the barn sits vacant, almost as if it’s waiting for a strong wind to end its days. Regardless, it, as many old deteriorated barns, signifies the end of an era when the barn was the money maker in Ohio, providing cover for livestock and crops, allowing pioneer families to survive and prosper, growing our great state. Yes, it seems forsaken but, with this painting and essay, it won’t be forgotten.
UPDATE: Our first visit to this barn came in 2018, when I captured it but did not get a chance to go through it. In the spring of 2021, Nyla told me that it had collapsed, probably in a wind storm. This time we could see the beams - many hand-hewn, dating it to the 1850s or perhaps earlier. Nina gave me some barn siding, which I'll use to frame yet another painting of this gem, perhaps forsaken but not forgotten.
Barn scout Nyla found this old barn, still barely standing, which, as I told her, was exactly the kind I’m interested in. Its boards, warped and missing, and its patched metal roof – with a few areas unpatched – tell a story of long ago when it was built in the early 1800s. Unfortunately, due to a time crunch, we didn’t inspect its interior. A little drive-through corn barn – at least that’s what it looks like – stands behind it and two add-ons hint that, at least for awhile, the farm was prosperous. It sits next to Starr Road.
Nina Inboden owns the barn, having acquired it from Arthur and Dorothy Kalklosch. They raised cattle and sheep, though they stopped the cattle business in the 1950s. When Art died in 2007, at 95, they stopped raising sheep. Today the barn sits vacant, almost as if it’s waiting for a strong wind to end its days. Regardless, it, as many old deteriorated barns, signifies the end of an era when the barn was the money maker in Ohio, providing cover for livestock and crops, allowing pioneer families to survive and prosper, growing our great state. Yes, it seems forsaken but, with this painting and essay, it won’t be forgotten.
UPDATE: Our first visit to this barn came in 2018, when I captured it but did not get a chance to go through it. In the spring of 2021, Nyla told me that it had collapsed, probably in a wind storm. This time we could see the beams - many hand-hewn, dating it to the 1850s or perhaps earlier. Nina gave me some barn siding, which I'll use to frame yet another painting of this gem, perhaps forsaken but not forgotten.
“Continuous”
This barn complex, a short walk up the hill from barn scout Dave’s barn, is fine example of continuous barn architecture. According to artist, author, and barn historian Eric Sloane in his book, An Age of Barns, this “rambling design” likely originated in New Hampshire. In nearly all Ohio barns, the farmhouse generally lies 50 to 100 yards away from the barn for two reasons. Firstly, if the barn was closer and caught fire, it could spread to the house and, secondly, livestock smells, unless borne by an unfriendly wind, would stay away – especially during a hot, humid summer. Yuck!
But in the frigid winters of New England, snow comes down in feet, not inches, making farm chores challenging. Having the house, outbuildings, and barns connected meant that the farmer could do his work more efficiently – without trudging through six-foot high snow drifts. However, in the early New England settlements of the 1600s, this continuous architecture was banned – for being a fire hazard, though there are no records of anyone having to pay a fine for this violation. The ban was dropped a century later.
In this Ohio farmstead, the small concrete-block milkhouse was likely built soon after the barn – to store milk from the farm’s dairy cows, almost a universal component of early Ohio barns. However, the larger addition, one providing storage for hay as well as livestock, probably came later as the farm’s production increased.
Over the years, the farmstead changed hands as the Starners sold it to the Ogle family, who, in turn, sold it to the Columbus-based Schneiders. Whether they continue to maintain it (lightning rods and metal roofs are doing a good job) is anyone’s guess. Losing such an Ohio gem would be a shame, especially one with continuous barn architecture.
This barn complex, a short walk up the hill from barn scout Dave’s barn, is fine example of continuous barn architecture. According to artist, author, and barn historian Eric Sloane in his book, An Age of Barns, this “rambling design” likely originated in New Hampshire. In nearly all Ohio barns, the farmhouse generally lies 50 to 100 yards away from the barn for two reasons. Firstly, if the barn was closer and caught fire, it could spread to the house and, secondly, livestock smells, unless borne by an unfriendly wind, would stay away – especially during a hot, humid summer. Yuck!
But in the frigid winters of New England, snow comes down in feet, not inches, making farm chores challenging. Having the house, outbuildings, and barns connected meant that the farmer could do his work more efficiently – without trudging through six-foot high snow drifts. However, in the early New England settlements of the 1600s, this continuous architecture was banned – for being a fire hazard, though there are no records of anyone having to pay a fine for this violation. The ban was dropped a century later.
In this Ohio farmstead, the small concrete-block milkhouse was likely built soon after the barn – to store milk from the farm’s dairy cows, almost a universal component of early Ohio barns. However, the larger addition, one providing storage for hay as well as livestock, probably came later as the farm’s production increased.
Over the years, the farmstead changed hands as the Starners sold it to the Ogle family, who, in turn, sold it to the Columbus-based Schneiders. Whether they continue to maintain it (lightning rods and metal roofs are doing a good job) is anyone’s guess. Losing such an Ohio gem would be a shame, especially one with continuous barn architecture.
“Pearl’s Prize”
Originally homesteaded by the farm’s founder, Franklin Walker, this farmstead traces back at least a century, evidenced by its matching slate roofs – on four buildings. The large barn, another German posted forebay (nearly identical to others in the area), a smaller barn (built before or after the large one?), a corn crib, and an apparent milk house hint that this was a busy farm, one that produced enough income for the farmer to cover the roofs with slate. Eventually Franklin’s son-in-law Pearl Starner took control of the farm.
Today, the Barron family, cousins of barn scout Dave, owns this farm and hopefully will decide to preserve it, a formidable task since vines, trees, and bushes are beginning to take their toll. However, it’s easy to imagine this farmstead a century ago, alive and brimming with livestock and crops, a vibrant piece of early Ohio farming, remembered in this painting as Pearl’s prize.
Originally homesteaded by the farm’s founder, Franklin Walker, this farmstead traces back at least a century, evidenced by its matching slate roofs – on four buildings. The large barn, another German posted forebay (nearly identical to others in the area), a smaller barn (built before or after the large one?), a corn crib, and an apparent milk house hint that this was a busy farm, one that produced enough income for the farmer to cover the roofs with slate. Eventually Franklin’s son-in-law Pearl Starner took control of the farm.
Today, the Barron family, cousins of barn scout Dave, owns this farm and hopefully will decide to preserve it, a formidable task since vines, trees, and bushes are beginning to take their toll. However, it’s easy to imagine this farmstead a century ago, alive and brimming with livestock and crops, a vibrant piece of early Ohio farming, remembered in this painting as Pearl’s prize.
“The Twosome”
Although its owners have tried to maintain this old barn with repairs to its metal roof and two new white barn doors, the barn appears to be on its last legs. And, despite its prominence in the composition, two rusting corn cribs have stolen the show. Their individuality, one – tall and slender with faded fiery red paint – and the other – short and squatty – is defined even more by their distinctive ventilator caps. Like the barn, they were probably built in the early 1900s, one after the other as the farmer needed additional storage for corn.
The barn, a small posted forebay, represents the transition from hand-hewn timber framing to plank construction with dimensional lumber. Though most of the beams are saw cut, many are connected with traditional mortise and tenon joints with wooden pegs.
Although Stewart Road winds around the corner, another road, all brick, formerly led from the barn in the opposite direction. Although one can’t go back in a time machine, wouldn’t it have been fun to see this farm in full throttle? Corn cribs full, wagons pulling into the barn, the farmer and his helper all milling about. It’s a final picture of bygone days, remembered only in this painting and essay – a struggling old barn, fronted by rusted metal corn cribs, a silent twosome defying Father Time.
Although its owners have tried to maintain this old barn with repairs to its metal roof and two new white barn doors, the barn appears to be on its last legs. And, despite its prominence in the composition, two rusting corn cribs have stolen the show. Their individuality, one – tall and slender with faded fiery red paint – and the other – short and squatty – is defined even more by their distinctive ventilator caps. Like the barn, they were probably built in the early 1900s, one after the other as the farmer needed additional storage for corn.
The barn, a small posted forebay, represents the transition from hand-hewn timber framing to plank construction with dimensional lumber. Though most of the beams are saw cut, many are connected with traditional mortise and tenon joints with wooden pegs.
Although Stewart Road winds around the corner, another road, all brick, formerly led from the barn in the opposite direction. Although one can’t go back in a time machine, wouldn’t it have been fun to see this farm in full throttle? Corn cribs full, wagons pulling into the barn, the farmer and his helper all milling about. It’s a final picture of bygone days, remembered only in this painting and essay – a struggling old barn, fronted by rusted metal corn cribs, a silent twosome defying Father Time.
“The Patriot”
Though this barn apparently is not in use, its large American flag hanging over a bay and clearly visible from Stage Road, displays the patriotism of its owner. At one time the large barn, a German posted forebay, built into a natural bank, must have been part of a prosperous farm. In fact, its slate roof, still intact and likely over 100 years old, showed that its owner could afford such a roof and built the barn for posterity. Perhaps its story will surface some time.
Though this barn apparently is not in use, its large American flag hanging over a bay and clearly visible from Stage Road, displays the patriotism of its owner. At one time the large barn, a German posted forebay, built into a natural bank, must have been part of a prosperous farm. In fact, its slate roof, still intact and likely over 100 years old, showed that its owner could afford such a roof and built the barn for posterity. Perhaps its story will surface some time.
“Three Amigos”
As my barn scouts and I drove along Miller Road, we decided to stop near this barn, which is owned by Larry Ellinger, according to Dave. The composition included the large red barn with a gambrel roof, fronted by a tiny milk house, and next to three metal silos, one presumably built after the other … and over the years – as the farm prospered.
About 100 yards away sits an impressive old farmhouse, one with a decorative slate roof and two chimneys, hinting that the 19th-century owner must have been a pretty good farmer. Today, the owners have preserved this gem with aluminum siding and have added a garage, which in no way compromises the antiquity of the farmstead.
Though about a dozen Black Angus cattle milled about in front of the barn, it’s anyone’s guess how much corn is stored in the “three amigos,” the silos that quietly steal the scene.
As my barn scouts and I drove along Miller Road, we decided to stop near this barn, which is owned by Larry Ellinger, according to Dave. The composition included the large red barn with a gambrel roof, fronted by a tiny milk house, and next to three metal silos, one presumably built after the other … and over the years – as the farm prospered.
About 100 yards away sits an impressive old farmhouse, one with a decorative slate roof and two chimneys, hinting that the 19th-century owner must have been a pretty good farmer. Today, the owners have preserved this gem with aluminum siding and have added a garage, which in no way compromises the antiquity of the farmstead.
Though about a dozen Black Angus cattle milled about in front of the barn, it’s anyone’s guess how much corn is stored in the “three amigos,” the silos that quietly steal the scene.
“Forget Me Not”
I chose the title for this barn painting not based on the little blue flower with the yellow center (named to symbolize love and respect – as when you give someone this flower, it represents a promise to remember that person) but rather on the barn itself. Derelict, its best days now long gone, it may not be around for too much longer, closing another page in Ohio farming history.
Some might call this a chicken house – since Dave Crawford, the owner explained that it did house chickens and claimed that it was called Florence's Flock House and Grandma's Chicken House. But, since the definition of a barn is a building that houses crops and livestock, this forlorn creature is indeed a barn. Small, measuring 10 feet high (half as tall now as it used to be) by 40 feet, it could hold only a modest number of chickens, but that number must have been enough for the farm family – with perhaps some extra eggs to sell or give to neighbors.
Few chicken barns were larger than this one. One exception is the still extant Moyer chicken barn in Sandusky County – with its six floors. Yes, it has six floors, which I can verify since I climbed to the top. There’s also a full-length wooden elevator, which made egg harvesting much easier than using the ladder. Built in the mid-19th century, the barn is a rare relic of the past. When Dave showed us his barn, I knew I had to paint it to preserve its memory … especially when I heard it calling, “Forget me not.”
I chose the title for this barn painting not based on the little blue flower with the yellow center (named to symbolize love and respect – as when you give someone this flower, it represents a promise to remember that person) but rather on the barn itself. Derelict, its best days now long gone, it may not be around for too much longer, closing another page in Ohio farming history.
Some might call this a chicken house – since Dave Crawford, the owner explained that it did house chickens and claimed that it was called Florence's Flock House and Grandma's Chicken House. But, since the definition of a barn is a building that houses crops and livestock, this forlorn creature is indeed a barn. Small, measuring 10 feet high (half as tall now as it used to be) by 40 feet, it could hold only a modest number of chickens, but that number must have been enough for the farm family – with perhaps some extra eggs to sell or give to neighbors.
Few chicken barns were larger than this one. One exception is the still extant Moyer chicken barn in Sandusky County – with its six floors. Yes, it has six floors, which I can verify since I climbed to the top. There’s also a full-length wooden elevator, which made egg harvesting much easier than using the ladder. Built in the mid-19th century, the barn is a rare relic of the past. When Dave showed us his barn, I knew I had to paint it to preserve its memory … especially when I heard it calling, “Forget me not.”
“Dalton’s Delight”
Early on our barn tour in the spring of 2022, we passed this tiny barn on Dalton Road, a nice composition with the road twisting to the top of a rise. We stopped for a look. Barn scout Dave told us that it was part of the Paul Shaw farm, which seems to stretch for miles across Hocking County.
However, this barn, unlike most in the county, is a rare bird – an authentic Sweitzer posted forebay, one that is usually built into a bank. This barn has only two levels: ground for livestock and upper for hay. Its asymmetrical roof, its peak centered over the main part of the barn, identifies the Sweitzer, which is plentiful in southeastern Pennsylvania and dates to the mid- to late-18th century. Several barn scholars have traveled to Germany and Switzerland in search of such barns to find European prototypes. The form that was closest to this design still exists in Pratigau, a region of Graubunden in eastern Switzerland.
Perhaps the unknown builder of this barn was familiar with the Sweitzers in Pennsylvania and decided he liked the design for his little barn. Regardless, even though apparently unused, (though protected by a metal roof) it delights barn lovers, who pass it on Dalton Road.
Early on our barn tour in the spring of 2022, we passed this tiny barn on Dalton Road, a nice composition with the road twisting to the top of a rise. We stopped for a look. Barn scout Dave told us that it was part of the Paul Shaw farm, which seems to stretch for miles across Hocking County.
However, this barn, unlike most in the county, is a rare bird – an authentic Sweitzer posted forebay, one that is usually built into a bank. This barn has only two levels: ground for livestock and upper for hay. Its asymmetrical roof, its peak centered over the main part of the barn, identifies the Sweitzer, which is plentiful in southeastern Pennsylvania and dates to the mid- to late-18th century. Several barn scholars have traveled to Germany and Switzerland in search of such barns to find European prototypes. The form that was closest to this design still exists in Pratigau, a region of Graubunden in eastern Switzerland.
Perhaps the unknown builder of this barn was familiar with the Sweitzers in Pennsylvania and decided he liked the design for his little barn. Regardless, even though apparently unused, (though protected by a metal roof) it delights barn lovers, who pass it on Dalton Road.
“Roley’s Wonder”
As my two barn scouts and I meandered through picturesque Hocking County, we came upon this little barn, perched on a bank, just waiting to be discovered. After a knock on the adjacent farmhouse door didn’t get answered, I took some photos and made a quick sketch, but didn’t go inside the barn. So, guessing the age of it would be just that – a guess.
Whoever built it did some expert dry-laid stonemasonry to fortify the bank, which the barn lies up against, making this a true bank barn. After probably a century, the mortarless stones remain in place. Chances are that the barn has two or three levels: a basement for livestock, the main floor for threshing and grain, and the loft for hay. Behind the barn, some llamas grazed next to a small pond, indicating that the barn may still have a purpose – as does a modern pole barn that stands nearby. Though its stories may be lost in time, Nyla explained that the Booth family owned it originally.
Regardless, it was a scene begging to be painted: a weathered gray barn, a winding gravel road, and a background of hardwood trees ascending a hillside. As such, it’s another feather in Hocking County’s cap, a wonder on Roley Road.
As my two barn scouts and I meandered through picturesque Hocking County, we came upon this little barn, perched on a bank, just waiting to be discovered. After a knock on the adjacent farmhouse door didn’t get answered, I took some photos and made a quick sketch, but didn’t go inside the barn. So, guessing the age of it would be just that – a guess.
Whoever built it did some expert dry-laid stonemasonry to fortify the bank, which the barn lies up against, making this a true bank barn. After probably a century, the mortarless stones remain in place. Chances are that the barn has two or three levels: a basement for livestock, the main floor for threshing and grain, and the loft for hay. Behind the barn, some llamas grazed next to a small pond, indicating that the barn may still have a purpose – as does a modern pole barn that stands nearby. Though its stories may be lost in time, Nyla explained that the Booth family owned it originally.
Regardless, it was a scene begging to be painted: a weathered gray barn, a winding gravel road, and a background of hardwood trees ascending a hillside. As such, it’s another feather in Hocking County’s cap, a wonder on Roley Road.
“Roley Hilltop”
After visiting the first barn on Roley Road, we drove up the hill and found another, this one all the way at the top of a steep hill – on a farm labeled, Hilltop Farm, which reminded me of western Kentucky. In fact, the nickname of sports teams at Western Kentucky University is just that: the hilltoppers. In 1911 the “normal” school was moved to a hill, 232 feet above the Barren River, which flows through Bowling Green.
Then, with a bit of luck, after knocking on the farmhouse door, the three of us met the owner, Mrs. Roley, whose husband’s family’s name graces the road. She explained that her husband’s family purchased the farm in 1941, though she didn’t know much about the original founder. Unfortunately, their barn burned. The present one dates to the 1960s, though it looks older.
This true bank barn was built into the hill, resulting in three levels, although, unlike most English or German bank barns, this one has doors on the ends, reminiscent of early Dutch barns – where doors open on the small end of the barns. Its dry-laid sandstone foundation, both beneath the barn and supporting the bank, has seen better days, though it can be restored with minimal expense. The barn’s siding, its red paint giving way to gray, could use a fresh coat, though its weathered appearance is what most photographers and artists find attractive.
Nonetheless, its aging condition aside, this barn continues to command attention as it sits, a lonely sentinel, on top of Roley hill.
After visiting the first barn on Roley Road, we drove up the hill and found another, this one all the way at the top of a steep hill – on a farm labeled, Hilltop Farm, which reminded me of western Kentucky. In fact, the nickname of sports teams at Western Kentucky University is just that: the hilltoppers. In 1911 the “normal” school was moved to a hill, 232 feet above the Barren River, which flows through Bowling Green.
Then, with a bit of luck, after knocking on the farmhouse door, the three of us met the owner, Mrs. Roley, whose husband’s family’s name graces the road. She explained that her husband’s family purchased the farm in 1941, though she didn’t know much about the original founder. Unfortunately, their barn burned. The present one dates to the 1960s, though it looks older.
This true bank barn was built into the hill, resulting in three levels, although, unlike most English or German bank barns, this one has doors on the ends, reminiscent of early Dutch barns – where doors open on the small end of the barns. Its dry-laid sandstone foundation, both beneath the barn and supporting the bank, has seen better days, though it can be restored with minimal expense. The barn’s siding, its red paint giving way to gray, could use a fresh coat, though its weathered appearance is what most photographers and artists find attractive.
Nonetheless, its aging condition aside, this barn continues to command attention as it sits, a lonely sentinel, on top of Roley hill.
“The Sheep Pen Lock”
In the early 1800s, Ohio was mostly a giant forest, which immigrants used to build log cabins and log barns. Clearing the forests for farm fields was painstakingly slow, but necessary to survive. In those years a farm family was lucky if it could support itself; buying supplies was expensive and selling any excess produce or livestock didn’t bring in much cash. Before 1830, Ohio was the third poorest state in the nation. But the Ohio canal system, spurred on by New York’s Erie Canal (opened in 1825 and called Clinton’s folly), changed everything.
The Ohio-Erie Canal, stretching from Lake Erie near Cleveland to Ohio River at Portsmouth, allowed farmers to buy supplies for reasonable prices and to sell their goods profitably. The first section, connecting Cleveland with Akron, opened in 1827 and the rest of the canal was running five years later. When counties saw the economic success that the canal produced, many decided to tap into it by digging canals into their towns. By 1850, thanks to the canal system, Ohio became the third most prosperous state, the third most populated, and, 10 years later, a major contributor to the Union’s victory in the Civil War.
Started in 1838, the Hocking Canal opened in 1843 and continued service for the next 46 years. Stretching from Carroll to Athens, the canal brought settlers to Lancaster, Logan, and Nelsonville. Though it was initially built as a guard lock, eventually it was converted to a lift lock – to allow boats to be lifted from the lower levels of the canal up to the Hocking River level so travel could continue on toward Logan and then to Athens. Ohioans now could ship not only their agricultural goods but also coal, iron ore, bricks, clay, salt, lumber and other products.
This Sheep Pen Lock, officially called Lift Lock No. 12, is one of the 27 locks that existed when the Hocking Canal was in operation. After the canal closed in 1889, an enterprising farmer built a sheep pen in front of the lock gates. How long this operated is anyone’s guess, though the name stuck.
In 1990 schoolteacher Sandy Starner and her sixth-grade class often visited this site, which helped the students learn both history and science. In time, Ms. Starner and her class decided it should be preserved and wrote letters, urging leaders to recognize it. Eventually, a canal preservation campaign began, the canal lock was saved, and a historic marker sign was placed in 1998. Many locals volunteered to clean the lock and maintain the grounds. Today, it’s a reminder of not only the farmer, who built a sheep pen there, but of the efforts of those early Ohioans, who constructed the Hocking Canal.
In the early 1800s, Ohio was mostly a giant forest, which immigrants used to build log cabins and log barns. Clearing the forests for farm fields was painstakingly slow, but necessary to survive. In those years a farm family was lucky if it could support itself; buying supplies was expensive and selling any excess produce or livestock didn’t bring in much cash. Before 1830, Ohio was the third poorest state in the nation. But the Ohio canal system, spurred on by New York’s Erie Canal (opened in 1825 and called Clinton’s folly), changed everything.
The Ohio-Erie Canal, stretching from Lake Erie near Cleveland to Ohio River at Portsmouth, allowed farmers to buy supplies for reasonable prices and to sell their goods profitably. The first section, connecting Cleveland with Akron, opened in 1827 and the rest of the canal was running five years later. When counties saw the economic success that the canal produced, many decided to tap into it by digging canals into their towns. By 1850, thanks to the canal system, Ohio became the third most prosperous state, the third most populated, and, 10 years later, a major contributor to the Union’s victory in the Civil War.
Started in 1838, the Hocking Canal opened in 1843 and continued service for the next 46 years. Stretching from Carroll to Athens, the canal brought settlers to Lancaster, Logan, and Nelsonville. Though it was initially built as a guard lock, eventually it was converted to a lift lock – to allow boats to be lifted from the lower levels of the canal up to the Hocking River level so travel could continue on toward Logan and then to Athens. Ohioans now could ship not only their agricultural goods but also coal, iron ore, bricks, clay, salt, lumber and other products.
This Sheep Pen Lock, officially called Lift Lock No. 12, is one of the 27 locks that existed when the Hocking Canal was in operation. After the canal closed in 1889, an enterprising farmer built a sheep pen in front of the lock gates. How long this operated is anyone’s guess, though the name stuck.
In 1990 schoolteacher Sandy Starner and her sixth-grade class often visited this site, which helped the students learn both history and science. In time, Ms. Starner and her class decided it should be preserved and wrote letters, urging leaders to recognize it. Eventually, a canal preservation campaign began, the canal lock was saved, and a historic marker sign was placed in 1998. Many locals volunteered to clean the lock and maintain the grounds. Today, it’s a reminder of not only the farmer, who built a sheep pen there, but of the efforts of those early Ohioans, who constructed the Hocking Canal.
“Oldies, but Goodies”
If this barn – and its outbuilding (granary or milk house) – could talk, they would likely have many fascinating stories about farm life in the late 1800s. Today their slate roofs, still intact for over a century, continue to protect the buildings – as do the four lightning rods on the barn’s roof.
Formerly, as Dave explained, the Woods family owned this farm, though now it belongs to Roger Shaw, who apparently does not use it. Green vines creep up the wall of the granary and weeds proliferate. However, a fresh coat of paint and some trimming would revitalize these farm buildings, definitely oldies, but still goodies.
If this barn – and its outbuilding (granary or milk house) – could talk, they would likely have many fascinating stories about farm life in the late 1800s. Today their slate roofs, still intact for over a century, continue to protect the buildings – as do the four lightning rods on the barn’s roof.
Formerly, as Dave explained, the Woods family owned this farm, though now it belongs to Roger Shaw, who apparently does not use it. Green vines creep up the wall of the granary and weeds proliferate. However, a fresh coat of paint and some trimming would revitalize these farm buildings, definitely oldies, but still goodies.
“A Star Is Born”
With apologies for borrowing the title from a Barbra Streisand movie, it seemed to fit this composition. The old barn, showing its age with a few missing boards and faded paint, was in decent shape. Its slate roof, presumably over 100 years old, was still protecting the barn and, chances are, will continue its role for years to come.
Someone placed a white star on its flank – as if to recognize the barn’s role in its farming past, when this must have been a busy place. Though this star was not the traditional type, it reminded me of the symbols painted on the barns in southeastern Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th century – mostly by German farmers, who brought this tradition with them from Europe.
Stars on a barn have been called many things: barnstars, barn stars, Pennsylvania stars, and primitive stars. The tradition of placing a star on a barn traces back to the German farmers of the 1700s, when they placed five-, six- or eight-pointed stars – wooden or metal – on the barn to bring good luck, a healthy crop yield, or to ward off evil spirits. This was much like the western tradition of hanging a horseshoe upside down to bring prosperity. In those days, barns, the “money makers,” were cherished and vital to survival. If barn star decorations protected them, then so be it.
Barnstars were especially common in the late 1700s and early 1800s in German farms in eastern Pennsylvania, where they can still be seen today. Some think that individual builders placed a certain kind of star – sort of a trademark – on their barns. Though we didn’t get a chance to inspect the inside of this barn, Dave said that the late Stacy Beougher used to own it. Perhaps he could have answered the question about the star.
With apologies for borrowing the title from a Barbra Streisand movie, it seemed to fit this composition. The old barn, showing its age with a few missing boards and faded paint, was in decent shape. Its slate roof, presumably over 100 years old, was still protecting the barn and, chances are, will continue its role for years to come.
Someone placed a white star on its flank – as if to recognize the barn’s role in its farming past, when this must have been a busy place. Though this star was not the traditional type, it reminded me of the symbols painted on the barns in southeastern Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th century – mostly by German farmers, who brought this tradition with them from Europe.
Stars on a barn have been called many things: barnstars, barn stars, Pennsylvania stars, and primitive stars. The tradition of placing a star on a barn traces back to the German farmers of the 1700s, when they placed five-, six- or eight-pointed stars – wooden or metal – on the barn to bring good luck, a healthy crop yield, or to ward off evil spirits. This was much like the western tradition of hanging a horseshoe upside down to bring prosperity. In those days, barns, the “money makers,” were cherished and vital to survival. If barn star decorations protected them, then so be it.
Barnstars were especially common in the late 1700s and early 1800s in German farms in eastern Pennsylvania, where they can still be seen today. Some think that individual builders placed a certain kind of star – sort of a trademark – on their barns. Though we didn’t get a chance to inspect the inside of this barn, Dave said that the late Stacy Beougher used to own it. Perhaps he could have answered the question about the star.
“Crawford’s Charm”
Dave Crawford first met me in a fundraising event at the Hocking Museum in Logan and informed me that he owned an old barn with a good history. Months later – in April, 2022 – he became an official “barn scout,” driving museum trustee Nyla and me all over the county to look for old barns. Dave knew something about almost every one of them.
His own barn most likely wasn’t the first built on this farm, founded by John Engle, according to the deed signed by John Quincy Adams. The 160-acre farm was registered in the Chillicothe land office and dated 1826. John, born in 1783 in Pennsylvania, married Christena and together they raised nine children, one of whom, Margaret, married David Mathias. Interestingly, Dave’s wife Barb is a direct descendant of the Mathias line.
Seven of their children were born before 1826, which means that either the family leased land to farm or moved here around 1826, when they bought the land. Chances are good that they built a log barn initially and then, as they prospered, a larger barn.
Dave and Barb’s barn, a traditional three-bay English threshing barn, was probably built between 1890 and 1910 – as suggested by sawmill-cut lumber and mortise and tenon joints, illustrating the transition from hand-hewn timber framing to plank construction with dimensional lumber. Around 1910 the farmer erected a windmill to pump water into the milk house to cool cans, full of milk. Dairy farmers had to be creative in the era before refrigeration.
Eventually, Robert White, who also owned a sawmill, took over the farm, and sold it to Harold Crawford, Dave’s father. After the war – around 1946 – he converted an old stable for draft horses into a milking parlor and added a milk house, establishing a grade A dairy farm, which continued for decades.
Dave and Barb now own the 70-acre farm and raise Black Angus cattle. Their barn, now over a century old, still functions, storing hay for the cattle and continues the legacy of “Crawford’s charm.”
Dave Crawford first met me in a fundraising event at the Hocking Museum in Logan and informed me that he owned an old barn with a good history. Months later – in April, 2022 – he became an official “barn scout,” driving museum trustee Nyla and me all over the county to look for old barns. Dave knew something about almost every one of them.
His own barn most likely wasn’t the first built on this farm, founded by John Engle, according to the deed signed by John Quincy Adams. The 160-acre farm was registered in the Chillicothe land office and dated 1826. John, born in 1783 in Pennsylvania, married Christena and together they raised nine children, one of whom, Margaret, married David Mathias. Interestingly, Dave’s wife Barb is a direct descendant of the Mathias line.
Seven of their children were born before 1826, which means that either the family leased land to farm or moved here around 1826, when they bought the land. Chances are good that they built a log barn initially and then, as they prospered, a larger barn.
Dave and Barb’s barn, a traditional three-bay English threshing barn, was probably built between 1890 and 1910 – as suggested by sawmill-cut lumber and mortise and tenon joints, illustrating the transition from hand-hewn timber framing to plank construction with dimensional lumber. Around 1910 the farmer erected a windmill to pump water into the milk house to cool cans, full of milk. Dairy farmers had to be creative in the era before refrigeration.
Eventually, Robert White, who also owned a sawmill, took over the farm, and sold it to Harold Crawford, Dave’s father. After the war – around 1946 – he converted an old stable for draft horses into a milking parlor and added a milk house, establishing a grade A dairy farm, which continued for decades.
Dave and Barb now own the 70-acre farm and raise Black Angus cattle. Their barn, now over a century old, still functions, storing hay for the cattle and continues the legacy of “Crawford’s charm.”
HOLMES
"The Hayrakers"
Everyone works hard on a farm in the Amish community. And that often means doing something the old fashioned way – without modern machinery. Like cutting hay fields in tractors pulled by draft horses.
Two Amish ladies, standing on top of their tractors and holding the reins of their horses, directed them left and right as they cut the field of hay adjacent to their large barns. One dressed in yellow and one dressed in blue – both dresses made by hand – lent a pastel-like atmosphere to the scene. The mother in blue must have thought that it would be a good idea to have her son along – as he stands behind her on the wagon – to show him the “ropes” of haycutting, a task he might soon be doing.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
Everyone works hard on a farm in the Amish community. And that often means doing something the old fashioned way – without modern machinery. Like cutting hay fields in tractors pulled by draft horses.
Two Amish ladies, standing on top of their tractors and holding the reins of their horses, directed them left and right as they cut the field of hay adjacent to their large barns. One dressed in yellow and one dressed in blue – both dresses made by hand – lent a pastel-like atmosphere to the scene. The mother in blue must have thought that it would be a good idea to have her son along – as he stands behind her on the wagon – to show him the “ropes” of haycutting, a task he might soon be doing.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
“The Funeral”
Sometimes a photographer has to be in the right place at the right time. On our Troyer tour, I had stopped for a photo of another scene when I heard “clop, clop, clop,” the sound of a horse-drawn buggy. As it passed by, I took some photos of the buggy and its two women, both clad in black from head to toe, as they drove down and around a curve in the road. I was lucky that one of the photos turned out well.
Our tour guide told us that Amish hold funerals within a few days of death and often hold them at a house or barn, which makes the experience more personal. Some Amish funerals may have hundreds of well-wishers, although we didn’t see any large crowds on our tour. And, in compliance with their wishes of no photographs of the face, I took this one from the rear of the wagon, showing only their black rounded hats and the ears of the horse. On the way to the funeral.
Sometimes a photographer has to be in the right place at the right time. On our Troyer tour, I had stopped for a photo of another scene when I heard “clop, clop, clop,” the sound of a horse-drawn buggy. As it passed by, I took some photos of the buggy and its two women, both clad in black from head to toe, as they drove down and around a curve in the road. I was lucky that one of the photos turned out well.
Our tour guide told us that Amish hold funerals within a few days of death and often hold them at a house or barn, which makes the experience more personal. Some Amish funerals may have hundreds of well-wishers, although we didn’t see any large crowds on our tour. And, in compliance with their wishes of no photographs of the face, I took this one from the rear of the wagon, showing only their black rounded hats and the ears of the horse. On the way to the funeral.
HURON
“Kinda Homely”
On our tour of Huron County, barn scouts Mel and Judy introduced me to Debbie Schwiefert, whose brother Craig owns this old barn. The slate roof, though more expensive than traditional wooden shakes, has proven it was a good investment, having protected the barn for over a century.
According to Judy and Debbie – who were interviewed by barn scout Judy Miller – the Seibel family built it in 1912, using lumber from the adjacent woods and moving dirt to form a bank to the upper level. At the time it was the largest barn in Huron County and, even today, it still commands attention with its dimensions of 80 by 100 feet.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.
On our tour of Huron County, barn scouts Mel and Judy introduced me to Debbie Schwiefert, whose brother Craig owns this old barn. The slate roof, though more expensive than traditional wooden shakes, has proven it was a good investment, having protected the barn for over a century.
According to Judy and Debbie – who were interviewed by barn scout Judy Miller – the Seibel family built it in 1912, using lumber from the adjacent woods and moving dirt to form a bank to the upper level. At the time it was the largest barn in Huron County and, even today, it still commands attention with its dimensions of 80 by 100 feet.
The rest of this story is featured in the book, Historic Barns of Ohio, available at most bookstores and through online sellers, including the publisher, the History Press.