Paintings Listed by Ohio County - J-P
JACKSON
“Little Wales”
Many settlers of the new state of Ohio came from Wales – either directly or from settlements in the northeastern states. One migration in 1818 landed many families in southeastern Ohio and another major one in 1839 brought so many Welsh families that the area of Jackson and Gallia counties became known as “Little Wales.” Today the village of Oak Hill maintains the Welsh-American Heritage Museum, the only one of its kind in the United States. And, the population of Jackson County is still a whopping ten percent today. Who knows, perhaps a Welshman built this 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.
JEFFERSON
“The Surveyors”
Most people don’t know that General George Washington, our first president, began his career as a land surveyor. And, in his travels in the Ohio Country in the late 1700s, he might have been near this barn, which, of course, wasn’t built at that time. I found it on the whirlwind tour of Ohio’s Appalachian Plateau, sitting next to State Route 43, just east of Amsterdam. When he was 16, Washington accompanied two prominent surveyors for work in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, not far from his family farm which he inherited when his father died. A year later in 1749, he was appointed the official surveyor for Culpeper County in Virginia. This led to an appointment as a lieutenant colonel in the Virginia Regiment in the French and Indian War in the 1750s. His war service earned him land grants in the Ohio River valley, which motivated him to explore the area in 1770. He and others took a canoe trip from present day Pittsburgh down the Ohio River and found the land ideal for settlement. In fact, he purchased land in Ohio and West Virginia and surveyed it after the war. 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.
Most people don’t know that General George Washington, our first president, began his career as a land surveyor. And, in his travels in the Ohio Country in the late 1700s, he might have been near this barn, which, of course, wasn’t built at that time. I found it on the whirlwind tour of Ohio’s Appalachian Plateau, sitting next to State Route 43, just east of Amsterdam. When he was 16, Washington accompanied two prominent surveyors for work in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, not far from his family farm which he inherited when his father died. A year later in 1749, he was appointed the official surveyor for Culpeper County in Virginia. This led to an appointment as a lieutenant colonel in the Virginia Regiment in the French and Indian War in the 1750s. His war service earned him land grants in the Ohio River valley, which motivated him to explore the area in 1770. He and others took a canoe trip from present day Pittsburgh down the Ohio River and found the land ideal for settlement. In fact, he purchased land in Ohio and West Virginia and surveyed it after the war. 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.
KNOX
“The Saltbox of Ohio”
This tiny barn, nearly touching busy Ohio Route 229, attracted my attention immediately. Its rusted roof had just the right amount of red and brown in it and the occasional orange and red streaks in the siding enhanced its artistic flair. Some missing and warped boards added to its charm, as did the small window, its white paint still bright, and its haymow door, swung wide open, almost as if it were inviting strangers from the nearby road. The roof was dramatically asymmetrical – one side was short and the other was much longer, sloping down the hill. But my barn scout had no information on it. By luck, a neighbor noticed us milling around the barn and asked us for our credentials – since drug-related crime is on the rise in rural communities. After I explained our mission, the lady gave us contact information for Jeff DePolo, the owner.
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 tiny barn, nearly touching busy Ohio Route 229, attracted my attention immediately. Its rusted roof had just the right amount of red and brown in it and the occasional orange and red streaks in the siding enhanced its artistic flair. Some missing and warped boards added to its charm, as did the small window, its white paint still bright, and its haymow door, swung wide open, almost as if it were inviting strangers from the nearby road. The roof was dramatically asymmetrical – one side was short and the other was much longer, sloping down the hill. But my barn scout had no information on it. By luck, a neighbor noticed us milling around the barn and asked us for our credentials – since drug-related crime is on the rise in rural communities. After I explained our mission, the lady gave us contact information for Jeff DePolo, the owner.
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.
“Sears”
Though this barn was not built from a Sears catalog offering, the second farm house on this property was. Sears, then a leader in the early 1900s in kits for houses and barns, has flourished for over a century, becoming a trade mark in America, even though it has faltered recently and may, like some old barns, soon fade into the horizon of American history.
The composition was a good one: the sun setting on the right, a few clouds hanging around, a large dense shadow from the brown ochre-tiled silo, and matching red buildings. A field of bright green soybeans filled in the front.
The first barn was built in the 1890s and was owned by Dan Struble and his son, who also built a smaller barn in 1916, which sits on the left side. The Sears catalog house, the second house on the farm, went up in 1909. The Strubles ran a dairy operation, apparently successfully since they kept erecting one building after another.
George and Sue Levengood purchased the farm in 1958 and continued the dairy business until 1999. Eventually when a new highway bypass went through in 1967, some of the acreage was reduced, though the barn complex remained intact. Good thing, since it’s a Knox County classic.
Though this barn was not built from a Sears catalog offering, the second farm house on this property was. Sears, then a leader in the early 1900s in kits for houses and barns, has flourished for over a century, becoming a trade mark in America, even though it has faltered recently and may, like some old barns, soon fade into the horizon of American history.
The composition was a good one: the sun setting on the right, a few clouds hanging around, a large dense shadow from the brown ochre-tiled silo, and matching red buildings. A field of bright green soybeans filled in the front.
The first barn was built in the 1890s and was owned by Dan Struble and his son, who also built a smaller barn in 1916, which sits on the left side. The Sears catalog house, the second house on the farm, went up in 1909. The Strubles ran a dairy operation, apparently successfully since they kept erecting one building after another.
George and Sue Levengood purchased the farm in 1958 and continued the dairy business until 1999. Eventually when a new highway bypass went through in 1967, some of the acreage was reduced, though the barn complex remained intact. Good thing, since it’s a Knox County classic.
“The Wool Barn”
Not many barns capture my imagination, but this one did. The composition is one of my favorites – the railway fading from next to the barn and then into the horizon, framed by diminishing green trees, the gray barn fronted by a red and white railroad crossing pole, and colorful hardwoods on both sides. Today Janelle, Larry’s daughter, and her husband Cory Ladig own this barn on Sycamore Road, in the area known as "Hunt's Station" in the old days - after the original train station. They live in a house that used to be the general store. Larry told me that a larger barn near this one, now gone, used to house sheep along with their wool.
When Larry and I visited it in the fall of 2017, he told me that it was a barn used to store wool from the many sheep farms in Knox County. When the train arrived, workers loaded wool onto the trains for shipment to factories. This continued into the 1940s – a time when Knox County was the largest wool producing county east of the Mississippi.
Wouldn’t this have been a sight to see? Go back to the 1800s. Farmers approach the barn, hauling their wool stored in wagons, drawn by horses. Men unloading. Then the whistle of the train alerts workmen to rise and shine and throw open the barn doors – to move wool into rail cars. Nowadays the barn looks forsaken, its paint gone and boards weathered. Only one train comes by a day. But there was a time when …
Not many barns capture my imagination, but this one did. The composition is one of my favorites – the railway fading from next to the barn and then into the horizon, framed by diminishing green trees, the gray barn fronted by a red and white railroad crossing pole, and colorful hardwoods on both sides. Today Janelle, Larry’s daughter, and her husband Cory Ladig own this barn on Sycamore Road, in the area known as "Hunt's Station" in the old days - after the original train station. They live in a house that used to be the general store. Larry told me that a larger barn near this one, now gone, used to house sheep along with their wool.
When Larry and I visited it in the fall of 2017, he told me that it was a barn used to store wool from the many sheep farms in Knox County. When the train arrived, workers loaded wool onto the trains for shipment to factories. This continued into the 1940s – a time when Knox County was the largest wool producing county east of the Mississippi.
Wouldn’t this have been a sight to see? Go back to the 1800s. Farmers approach the barn, hauling their wool stored in wagons, drawn by horses. Men unloading. Then the whistle of the train alerts workmen to rise and shine and throw open the barn doors – to move wool into rail cars. Nowadays the barn looks forsaken, its paint gone and boards weathered. Only one train comes by a day. But there was a time when …
LAKE
“Aunt Ruth’s Perfume Factory”
I had almost given up trying to find a barn in Lake County, established in 1840 and highly developed. Though the smallest in land size, it ranks 11th in population and it’s jam packed with people, schools, and businesses and, as one might guess, it also lacks the flavor of a rural county and its old barns. I had a nibble from a lady who owns a chicken farm – but no old barn – but that fizzled. So, I decided to re-visit my Ohio Bicentennial Barn book, found the barn painted in Lake County that was done in 2002, called the county auditor, and send a snail mail letter to the owner, Thomas Carrig. Dan and Jennifer Hearn, co-owners with his uncle Thomas and mother Nancy, sent me a speedy email reply. Yes, I could visit.
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 had almost given up trying to find a barn in Lake County, established in 1840 and highly developed. Though the smallest in land size, it ranks 11th in population and it’s jam packed with people, schools, and businesses and, as one might guess, it also lacks the flavor of a rural county and its old barns. I had a nibble from a lady who owns a chicken farm – but no old barn – but that fizzled. So, I decided to re-visit my Ohio Bicentennial Barn book, found the barn painted in Lake County that was done in 2002, called the county auditor, and send a snail mail letter to the owner, Thomas Carrig. Dan and Jennifer Hearn, co-owners with his uncle Thomas and mother Nancy, sent me a speedy email reply. Yes, I could visit.
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.
LAWRENCE
“Castle on the Hill”
An article in the Ironton Tribune newspaper caught the attention of Kay Swartzwelder, owner of this barn, along with her husband Scott. Since hers was the most interesting response, I scheduled a trip, which included my grandson Henry. Kay wrote that their farm was located close to Coal Grove, a village near the Ohio River, probably named for its coal mines, which were abundant in the nineteenth century in southern and eastern Ohio – along with numerous charcoal-fired blast furnaces, which were used to convert iron ore to iron, a significant factor in the Civil War.
Since finding her farm might be difficult, we met Kay at Giovanni’s Pizza – a restaurant that twelve-year-old Henry begged me to stop at – and followed her through some country lanes, finally arriving at the scene, which reminded me of the song, Castle on the Hill, written by Ed Sheeran and Benjamin Levin. We stopped at the base of the steep hill, which rises about 100 feet, so that I could include a tall Sycamore tree in the composition.
The barn was built around 1916, a date the saw-cut timbers affirm, but it wasn’t until 1933, in the throes of the Great Depression, that Scott’s grandfather acquired it. Eventually the farm passed to Scott, who may someday continue the family ownership with son Brandon, whom we met and who helped me select some of the old barn siding, virgin poplar, for the painting’s frame.
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.
An article in the Ironton Tribune newspaper caught the attention of Kay Swartzwelder, owner of this barn, along with her husband Scott. Since hers was the most interesting response, I scheduled a trip, which included my grandson Henry. Kay wrote that their farm was located close to Coal Grove, a village near the Ohio River, probably named for its coal mines, which were abundant in the nineteenth century in southern and eastern Ohio – along with numerous charcoal-fired blast furnaces, which were used to convert iron ore to iron, a significant factor in the Civil War.
Since finding her farm might be difficult, we met Kay at Giovanni’s Pizza – a restaurant that twelve-year-old Henry begged me to stop at – and followed her through some country lanes, finally arriving at the scene, which reminded me of the song, Castle on the Hill, written by Ed Sheeran and Benjamin Levin. We stopped at the base of the steep hill, which rises about 100 feet, so that I could include a tall Sycamore tree in the composition.
The barn was built around 1916, a date the saw-cut timbers affirm, but it wasn’t until 1933, in the throes of the Great Depression, that Scott’s grandfather acquired it. Eventually the farm passed to Scott, who may someday continue the family ownership with son Brandon, whom we met and who helped me select some of the old barn siding, virgin poplar, for the painting’s frame.
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.
LICKING
"Granville Gray"
This old boy was the spark that started my fire to paint Ohio's old barns. Its owner gave me history about the area and the barn, which made for a good essay. 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 TV producer drove two hours from his office in Columbus to feature this barn in the Spectrum News video (December, 2019). It comes just as the car rises above a hill.
Click here for a look.
This old boy was the spark that started my fire to paint Ohio's old barns. Its owner gave me history about the area and the barn, which made for a good essay. 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 TV producer drove two hours from his office in Columbus to feature this barn in the Spectrum News video (December, 2019). It comes just as the car rises above a hill.
Click here for a look.
LOGAN
“Hay Heaven”
Barn scout Bob Stoll and I met Russ Miller, who owns this farm with his wife Beth, on a sunny day in April, 2023. Russ, a retired math teacher and dairy farmer, has lived here since 1973. Two years later, his father purchased the farm. Along with dairying, they used to raise beef cattle on this spread of 143 acres. Today Russ and his brother farm hay, evidenced by the long line of neatly arranged hay bales in the foreground.
The large barn with its metal gambrel roof – a style that allowed more storage than the simple gable roof – has been meticulously maintained. Inside, mortise and tenon joints and sawcut lumber hint that this barn was a transition from purely timber framing to plank construction, probably dating it to the 1890-1910 period. A slight bank was built up to allow wagons to deliver hay to be stored and, formerly, as Russ explained, a cupola provided ventilation for livestock. One summer Russ had the task of stacking 9,000 bales of hay and straw in the second story of the barn. Whew! An add-on came later, hinting that the farmer needed more storage space and that he was prosperous enough to build a handsome brick foundation.
Russ mentioned that Neil Slicer may have been the farm’s founder in the Civil War era. Born in Maryland in 1814, he became a printer, working in that field for 10 years. In 1840 he moved to Bellefontaine and worked in printing for a short time – before he switched into the mercantile field. He again switched careers in 1852, when he bought a farm. He and his wife Sarah had eight children. Although over the years the farm has rotated through tenant farmers, today it’s purely hay heaven – and, fortunately, it’s in the hands of a custodian who counts it a privilege to care for it.
Barn scout Bob Stoll and I met Russ Miller, who owns this farm with his wife Beth, on a sunny day in April, 2023. Russ, a retired math teacher and dairy farmer, has lived here since 1973. Two years later, his father purchased the farm. Along with dairying, they used to raise beef cattle on this spread of 143 acres. Today Russ and his brother farm hay, evidenced by the long line of neatly arranged hay bales in the foreground.
The large barn with its metal gambrel roof – a style that allowed more storage than the simple gable roof – has been meticulously maintained. Inside, mortise and tenon joints and sawcut lumber hint that this barn was a transition from purely timber framing to plank construction, probably dating it to the 1890-1910 period. A slight bank was built up to allow wagons to deliver hay to be stored and, formerly, as Russ explained, a cupola provided ventilation for livestock. One summer Russ had the task of stacking 9,000 bales of hay and straw in the second story of the barn. Whew! An add-on came later, hinting that the farmer needed more storage space and that he was prosperous enough to build a handsome brick foundation.
Russ mentioned that Neil Slicer may have been the farm’s founder in the Civil War era. Born in Maryland in 1814, he became a printer, working in that field for 10 years. In 1840 he moved to Bellefontaine and worked in printing for a short time – before he switched into the mercantile field. He again switched careers in 1852, when he bought a farm. He and his wife Sarah had eight children. Although over the years the farm has rotated through tenant farmers, today it’s purely hay heaven – and, fortunately, it’s in the hands of a custodian who counts it a privilege to care for it.
“A Farmer’s Frigidaire”
Whoever built this old springhouse was a master at his craft. Well-cut quoins support the corners and, though there’s probably been some repair done, the mortar in this uncoursed rubble construction of fieldstone and limestone has held up remarkably well. Uncut logs support the second floor and a metal roof protects what was probably original wooden shakes. Barn scout Bob Stoll explained that the nearby farmhouse dates to 1830, which means that this springhouse can’t be far behind. From observation of the nearby Stoll barn’s foundation, it appears that the same stonemason did both structures.
Springhouses, as were root cellars – more rustic structures often built like a cave into a hillside – were probably the second most important part of an early farmstead, right behind the barn. Usually, settlers would erect a simple log home before the barn, but sometimes they’d build a barn first and live in it, along with their livestock and crops. After the barn came the springhouse, normally built over a well or a spring, where the water temperature remained around 55 degrees year-round, not as cold as a refrigerator but cold enough to store meat and vegetables. On the east coast, farmers built these structures in the 18th century and, as settlers moved into Ohio in the 19th century, they continued this tradition. Later, ice houses appeared, built to preserve a winter’s crop of ice. And, in time, as dairy farms developed, the functions of the springhouse included storing milk and eventually cheese products. When the electric refrigerator became popular in the late 1920s, the springhouse was relegated to a charming piece of history – as was another integral part of an early farmstead – the outhouse.
Few stone springhouses remain today, making this one extremely rare. Hopefully, Matt McGuire, who purchased it in 2010, will maintain it or donate it to the historical society to preserve it for future generations. Though its metal roof appears sturdy and though its masonry is mostly intact, one of the walls needs repair. With good fortune, this historic springhouse will continue to survive, answering the question schoolchildren may ask about how the early Ohioans kept their food cold. There weren’t any Frigidaires in those days.
Whoever built this old springhouse was a master at his craft. Well-cut quoins support the corners and, though there’s probably been some repair done, the mortar in this uncoursed rubble construction of fieldstone and limestone has held up remarkably well. Uncut logs support the second floor and a metal roof protects what was probably original wooden shakes. Barn scout Bob Stoll explained that the nearby farmhouse dates to 1830, which means that this springhouse can’t be far behind. From observation of the nearby Stoll barn’s foundation, it appears that the same stonemason did both structures.
Springhouses, as were root cellars – more rustic structures often built like a cave into a hillside – were probably the second most important part of an early farmstead, right behind the barn. Usually, settlers would erect a simple log home before the barn, but sometimes they’d build a barn first and live in it, along with their livestock and crops. After the barn came the springhouse, normally built over a well or a spring, where the water temperature remained around 55 degrees year-round, not as cold as a refrigerator but cold enough to store meat and vegetables. On the east coast, farmers built these structures in the 18th century and, as settlers moved into Ohio in the 19th century, they continued this tradition. Later, ice houses appeared, built to preserve a winter’s crop of ice. And, in time, as dairy farms developed, the functions of the springhouse included storing milk and eventually cheese products. When the electric refrigerator became popular in the late 1920s, the springhouse was relegated to a charming piece of history – as was another integral part of an early farmstead – the outhouse.
Few stone springhouses remain today, making this one extremely rare. Hopefully, Matt McGuire, who purchased it in 2010, will maintain it or donate it to the historical society to preserve it for future generations. Though its metal roof appears sturdy and though its masonry is mostly intact, one of the walls needs repair. With good fortune, this historic springhouse will continue to survive, answering the question schoolchildren may ask about how the early Ohioans kept their food cold. There weren’t any Frigidaires in those days.
“Survival”
Benjamin Bunker built this charming farmhouse and the adjacent two barns between 1875 and 1880. Inside, there’s a mixture of hand hewn beams and saw-cut timbers, evidence of a sawmill nearby or on the farm. Over the years, owners used the barns to house sheep and cattle. Today it’s used for storage.
Current owners Bill and Susan Shultz were kind enough to give barn scout Bob Stoll and me a tour. They explained that the farm has been in family hands since 1929 – at the end of the turbulent 1920s – the roaring 20s in the big cities but painful years for farmers. A year later, the Great Depression began, but the Shultz family survived, unlike many farmers who lost their farms to banks. These days they allow a farming partner to raise corn and soybeans on most of their 600 acres and they continue to maintain these two historic barns, a testament to their ancestors, who managed to keep the farm during the perilous Great Depression and the war years. In those days, it was all about survival.
Benjamin Bunker built this charming farmhouse and the adjacent two barns between 1875 and 1880. Inside, there’s a mixture of hand hewn beams and saw-cut timbers, evidence of a sawmill nearby or on the farm. Over the years, owners used the barns to house sheep and cattle. Today it’s used for storage.
Current owners Bill and Susan Shultz were kind enough to give barn scout Bob Stoll and me a tour. They explained that the farm has been in family hands since 1929 – at the end of the turbulent 1920s – the roaring 20s in the big cities but painful years for farmers. A year later, the Great Depression began, but the Shultz family survived, unlike many farmers who lost their farms to banks. These days they allow a farming partner to raise corn and soybeans on most of their 600 acres and they continue to maintain these two historic barns, a testament to their ancestors, who managed to keep the farm during the perilous Great Depression and the war years. In those days, it was all about survival.
“Booze Days”
Jerry Fitzpatrick, who owns this barn, along with his two sisters, gave barn scout Bob Stoll and me a tour of this interesting bank barn. His ancestor, also a Fitzpatrick, founded the farm in the late 1800s and hired someone to build this barn in 1895. This year and the initials, “FHC,” are painted in blue on one of the beams. He also included the exact date, September 21, likely the barn raising day, which the builder must have been pretty proud of.
The barn, a three bay English threshing type, represents the transition from the ancient art of timber framing with hand-hewn beams, cut often from trees on the property. Though there are some mortise and tenon joints, held with wooden pegs, the lumber is mostly sawn.Though it’s mostly an English design, the barn has a short forebay on the rear side, a German tradition and its wooden shake roof, now protected by metal, may be original. Six decorative louvers on the front add flair and their ventilation hints that livestock were housed here. Feeding stalls on the bottom level and rectangular ventilators on the ends provide more evidence of this. The rock foundation is an impressive display of stonemasonry; little mortar was needed in between the large cut fieldstones.
The farm was also famous for its annual event of craft beer competitions, called Booze Days and held in June. This celebration involved two days of dancing, music, and craft beers, appealing to the many Germans in western Ohio – as well as to other beer lovers from adjacent states and even from as far west as California. It continued for 15 years before Jerry shut it down.
These days, nearby Bellefontaine, the county seat, has taken over the reins in sponsoring B-Town Brew Fest in the downtown area. Entry fees include 10 tasting tickets for samplings of Ohio-made beer, which feature a local artisan, Roundhouse Depot Brewing. Four Acre Clothing provides on-site screen printing of special edition shirts. Yes, Germans love their beer as did, most likely, the builder of this wonderful barn, who would have also enjoyed the Fitzpatrick’s Booze Days.
Jerry Fitzpatrick, who owns this barn, along with his two sisters, gave barn scout Bob Stoll and me a tour of this interesting bank barn. His ancestor, also a Fitzpatrick, founded the farm in the late 1800s and hired someone to build this barn in 1895. This year and the initials, “FHC,” are painted in blue on one of the beams. He also included the exact date, September 21, likely the barn raising day, which the builder must have been pretty proud of.
The barn, a three bay English threshing type, represents the transition from the ancient art of timber framing with hand-hewn beams, cut often from trees on the property. Though there are some mortise and tenon joints, held with wooden pegs, the lumber is mostly sawn.Though it’s mostly an English design, the barn has a short forebay on the rear side, a German tradition and its wooden shake roof, now protected by metal, may be original. Six decorative louvers on the front add flair and their ventilation hints that livestock were housed here. Feeding stalls on the bottom level and rectangular ventilators on the ends provide more evidence of this. The rock foundation is an impressive display of stonemasonry; little mortar was needed in between the large cut fieldstones.
The farm was also famous for its annual event of craft beer competitions, called Booze Days and held in June. This celebration involved two days of dancing, music, and craft beers, appealing to the many Germans in western Ohio – as well as to other beer lovers from adjacent states and even from as far west as California. It continued for 15 years before Jerry shut it down.
These days, nearby Bellefontaine, the county seat, has taken over the reins in sponsoring B-Town Brew Fest in the downtown area. Entry fees include 10 tasting tickets for samplings of Ohio-made beer, which feature a local artisan, Roundhouse Depot Brewing. Four Acre Clothing provides on-site screen printing of special edition shirts. Yes, Germans love their beer as did, most likely, the builder of this wonderful barn, who would have also enjoyed the Fitzpatrick’s Booze Days.
“Shawver’s Sparkling Legacy”
Barn scout Bob Stoll saved this barn until the end of our tour in April, 2023. Yes, it wasn’t in good shape; its red paint was peeling away from its gray undersides, pieces of the metal roof were torn off, and some siding and doors were missing. It needed serious help. Fortunately, Scott and Missy Buroker, who recently purchased this 10-acre farm, explained that they planned to restore the historic barn. That was welcome news since the barn traces back nearly 130 years – evidenced by lettering on the front, “Shady-Nook, 1894.” John Shawver built it. His great-great-grandson Chuck Gamble showed us a wooden model of barn construction that John used to show to prospective farmers, who were thinking about hiring him. Shawver, a well-documented Ohio barn builder, revolutionized barn building by using a new approach, which not only saved building time but did not require massive beams and timber framing. He built over 7,000 barns in the United States and Canada. Since this essay centers on an Ohio barn builder, an important part of early Ohio history, it is lengthy and, as such, is too long for this site; but it will definitely find a place in my second book on historic Ohio barns.
Barn scout Bob Stoll saved this barn until the end of our tour in April, 2023. Yes, it wasn’t in good shape; its red paint was peeling away from its gray undersides, pieces of the metal roof were torn off, and some siding and doors were missing. It needed serious help. Fortunately, Scott and Missy Buroker, who recently purchased this 10-acre farm, explained that they planned to restore the historic barn. That was welcome news since the barn traces back nearly 130 years – evidenced by lettering on the front, “Shady-Nook, 1894.” John Shawver built it. His great-great-grandson Chuck Gamble showed us a wooden model of barn construction that John used to show to prospective farmers, who were thinking about hiring him. Shawver, a well-documented Ohio barn builder, revolutionized barn building by using a new approach, which not only saved building time but did not require massive beams and timber framing. He built over 7,000 barns in the United States and Canada. Since this essay centers on an Ohio barn builder, an important part of early Ohio history, it is lengthy and, as such, is too long for this site; but it will definitely find a place in my second book on historic Ohio barns.
“Seriously Stoll”
Barn scout Bob Stoll and his sister Deb, along with their spouses, own this old barn, which dates to the 19th century and to a farmer named Charles Folsom. Bob’s parents, Weldon and Barbara Stoll purchased the 250-acre farm in the 1970s and, when Barbara died in 2020, Bob and Deborah became the new owners.
Interestingly, Bob’s great grandfather Jacob Stoll was one of Ohio’s early barn builders, one of a group that, unfortunately, has not been well documented. Jacob built many timber-framed barns in Clark County, two counties south of Logan.
This barn, painted green, another rarity in Ohio, and its massive cement silo, probably added in the early 1900s, displays typical timber framing with mortise and tenon joints and hand-hewn beams. Original roof planks, which once supported wood shakes, are now wisely covered with metal, assuring many more years of longevity for the barn. A master stone mason built the foundation, which features beautifully-cut pieces of limestone, coursed in uniform rows. He might have also built the nearby stone springhouse, which originally was part of the farmstead.
Today, Bob uses the barn to house heifers and calves on his farm, which as a sign documents, is Ohio Preserved Farmland, part of the Logan County Land Trust, of which Bob is a director. Formerly a district conservationist, having worked for the USDA’s Natural Resource Conservation Service, Bob has helped establish 23 other easements in his county, assuring that the land will be used only for agriculture and will not be allowed to be developed into housing or commercial property. Without a doubt, this farmstead is “seriously Stoll.”
Barn scout Bob Stoll and his sister Deb, along with their spouses, own this old barn, which dates to the 19th century and to a farmer named Charles Folsom. Bob’s parents, Weldon and Barbara Stoll purchased the 250-acre farm in the 1970s and, when Barbara died in 2020, Bob and Deborah became the new owners.
Interestingly, Bob’s great grandfather Jacob Stoll was one of Ohio’s early barn builders, one of a group that, unfortunately, has not been well documented. Jacob built many timber-framed barns in Clark County, two counties south of Logan.
This barn, painted green, another rarity in Ohio, and its massive cement silo, probably added in the early 1900s, displays typical timber framing with mortise and tenon joints and hand-hewn beams. Original roof planks, which once supported wood shakes, are now wisely covered with metal, assuring many more years of longevity for the barn. A master stone mason built the foundation, which features beautifully-cut pieces of limestone, coursed in uniform rows. He might have also built the nearby stone springhouse, which originally was part of the farmstead.
Today, Bob uses the barn to house heifers and calves on his farm, which as a sign documents, is Ohio Preserved Farmland, part of the Logan County Land Trust, of which Bob is a director. Formerly a district conservationist, having worked for the USDA’s Natural Resource Conservation Service, Bob has helped establish 23 other easements in his county, assuring that the land will be used only for agriculture and will not be allowed to be developed into housing or commercial property. Without a doubt, this farmstead is “seriously Stoll.”
“Last Days”
This venerable old barn traces back to pre-Civil War times and, since it’s large, it may not have been the first barn on this farm, which is in its sixth generation of Hudson family ownership.
Jacob V. Hudson, patriarch and pioneer, settled this land in 1827 and began farming, hoping to take advantage of the Land Act of 1820, which reduced the number of acres that Ohioans had to purchase from 160 to 80 and the cost from $2.00 per acre to $1.25 per acre – an attempt to encourage additional land sales. He might also have used the Relief Act of 1821, which allowed Ohio farmers to return land back to the government, earning credit towards their debt. President Andrew Jackson signed the Hudson deed in April, 1829, which recorded the sale of 78 acres.
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 venerable old barn traces back to pre-Civil War times and, since it’s large, it may not have been the first barn on this farm, which is in its sixth generation of Hudson family ownership.
Jacob V. Hudson, patriarch and pioneer, settled this land in 1827 and began farming, hoping to take advantage of the Land Act of 1820, which reduced the number of acres that Ohioans had to purchase from 160 to 80 and the cost from $2.00 per acre to $1.25 per acre – an attempt to encourage additional land sales. He might also have used the Relief Act of 1821, which allowed Ohio farmers to return land back to the government, earning credit towards their debt. President Andrew Jackson signed the Hudson deed in April, 1829, which recorded the sale of 78 acres.
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.
LORAIN
“Milking His Girls"
Lorain County, the county just west of Cleveland, is full of barns, unlike its neighbors, Cuyahoga and Lake counties. After the Chronicle, the county’s biggest newspaper, ran an article about my barn project, many barn owners inquired. Sadly, I had to turn down all but two, both located in the southern part of the county, which was easier for me to reach on this barn trip. I told the others that I’d return if a local nonprofit becomes interested in raising funds with my paintings. I met the barn owner, Dan Clark, an effervescent, extroverted former National Guard helicopter mechanic-turned-IT-expert. His job at Sherwin Williams takes him on projects around the world. Fortunately for me, his busy schedule allowed him to show me around his barn, one that he’s pretty proud of – and rightfully so. He also told me that his township of Pittsfield no longer has a post office and seems to be disappearing amid adjacent towns of Oberlin, Wellington, and LaGrange. The latter, a French word for “the farm,” symbolizes the heart of this area. As Dan said, “Agriculture is in our blood and we are generational stewards of the land, ensuring there is a farm to call home to some future generation that wants to put a plow in it.”
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.
Lorain County, the county just west of Cleveland, is full of barns, unlike its neighbors, Cuyahoga and Lake counties. After the Chronicle, the county’s biggest newspaper, ran an article about my barn project, many barn owners inquired. Sadly, I had to turn down all but two, both located in the southern part of the county, which was easier for me to reach on this barn trip. I told the others that I’d return if a local nonprofit becomes interested in raising funds with my paintings. I met the barn owner, Dan Clark, an effervescent, extroverted former National Guard helicopter mechanic-turned-IT-expert. His job at Sherwin Williams takes him on projects around the world. Fortunately for me, his busy schedule allowed him to show me around his barn, one that he’s pretty proud of – and rightfully so. He also told me that his township of Pittsfield no longer has a post office and seems to be disappearing amid adjacent towns of Oberlin, Wellington, and LaGrange. The latter, a French word for “the farm,” symbolizes the heart of this area. As Dan said, “Agriculture is in our blood and we are generational stewards of the land, ensuring there is a farm to call home to some future generation that wants to put a plow in it.”
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.
LUCAS
“All American”
God smiled upon me as I drove through the western part of Lucas County, another Ohio county whose rural scene is becoming engulfed with industry and suburbs. Without any help from the county’s historical society, I was on my own, hoping for a good find – like the one I had discovered earlier in Wood County. Driving up Route 64 and crossing the Maumee River into Lucas territory, I noticed a red barn across a field. But it didn’t excite me. So I kept going, keeping it as a possibility, and turned onto Route 20, heading towards Swanton.
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.
God smiled upon me as I drove through the western part of Lucas County, another Ohio county whose rural scene is becoming engulfed with industry and suburbs. Without any help from the county’s historical society, I was on my own, hoping for a good find – like the one I had discovered earlier in Wood County. Driving up Route 64 and crossing the Maumee River into Lucas territory, I noticed a red barn across a field. But it didn’t excite me. So I kept going, keeping it as a possibility, and turned onto Route 20, heading towards Swanton.
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.
MADISON
“The Constitution”
Madison County was the last county I visited on my six-day barn trip in the spring of 2019. Without any connections, I kept my eye out for any oldies on my drive down Route 38, heading through rural farm country and on my way to I-71 and home. As I passed the junction of this route and Old Xenia Road, I saw a beauty, a stunningly weathered brown barn with a small add-on, possibly a corn crib. With many boards missing, holes gaping through and through, the barn’s life was nearly over, something that a windstorm could finalize. It was my kind of barn.
I knocked on the adjacent farmhouse door but no one answered. Later I called the historical society but got no help. I even contacted the county auditor, who had trouble locating the owners. Anyway I sent a letter, but it was never answered. So I looked to the county for a story.
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.
Madison County was the last county I visited on my six-day barn trip in the spring of 2019. Without any connections, I kept my eye out for any oldies on my drive down Route 38, heading through rural farm country and on my way to I-71 and home. As I passed the junction of this route and Old Xenia Road, I saw a beauty, a stunningly weathered brown barn with a small add-on, possibly a corn crib. With many boards missing, holes gaping through and through, the barn’s life was nearly over, something that a windstorm could finalize. It was my kind of barn.
I knocked on the adjacent farmhouse door but no one answered. Later I called the historical society but got no help. I even contacted the county auditor, who had trouble locating the owners. Anyway I sent a letter, but it was never answered. So I looked to the county for a story.
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.
MAHONING
“Peter Pan, Wendy, and Tinkerbell”
Old barns sometimes, but not always, can tell a compelling story. However, once in a great while the barn reveals multiple looks into the past as this one does, the one I like to call “the Peter Pan barn.”
This barn, located many miles south of Youngstown’s once-famous steel mills, lies in the southern part of Mahoning County, where farming was the main economic engine – as it was in the adjacent Appalachian county of Columbiana. Sandra Ciminero, current co-owner and resident of this farm, told me that her grandfather, Ralph E. Elser, purchased the farm around 1921, though the farm traces back into the 1800s, as evidenced by a pile of old hand-hewn beams taken from an earlier building and according to a 1925 Elser reunion notice, which explained that a century earlier George Elser, the farm’s founder, traveled here with his family in a covered wagon drawn by two oxen. 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.
Old barns sometimes, but not always, can tell a compelling story. However, once in a great while the barn reveals multiple looks into the past as this one does, the one I like to call “the Peter Pan barn.”
This barn, located many miles south of Youngstown’s once-famous steel mills, lies in the southern part of Mahoning County, where farming was the main economic engine – as it was in the adjacent Appalachian county of Columbiana. Sandra Ciminero, current co-owner and resident of this farm, told me that her grandfather, Ralph E. Elser, purchased the farm around 1921, though the farm traces back into the 1800s, as evidenced by a pile of old hand-hewn beams taken from an earlier building and according to a 1925 Elser reunion notice, which explained that a century earlier George Elser, the farm’s founder, traveled here with his family in a covered wagon drawn by two oxen. 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.
“Guterba’s Glory”
It’s not often a barn owner pays for dendrochronology – from the College of Wooster – to date his barn, and it’s much less often when the report dates the tree to 1622, as was the case with this one. My Google Alert system found an article about the barn, written by Pam Gray, in Farm Progress. That article and the fact that the barn is located near my boyhood home in Mahoning County was all the motivation I needed. So, I visited Kyle Guterba, barn owner, and his cousin Jared, who also has worked on the farm for decades, in the fall of 2021. The barn astonished me.
The story traces back to the Revolutionary War, in which the founding farmer, Adam Hahn, fought and earned land grants for his service. Originally from Baltimore County, Maryland, Hahn, like many war veterans, looked westwards for more land and less congestion and he purchased this land in the Ohio territory in November, 1801. He appeared on the 1806 and 1810 tax lists and was one of the trustees who purchased land for Good Hope Lutheran and Reformed Church in 1810. Six years later he paid taxes on 590 acres and in April, 1820, Adam Hahn and wife Magdalena sold parcels of about 148 acres each to Adam Hahn, Jr., Peter Hahn, John Hahn, and others. Adam’s will, written 1827, was probated in 1830.
Though he possibly built a log barn or a small barn when he first settled, Hahn must have prospered enough to build this substantial structure. Kyle explained that the barn was completed in 1812 – the dendrochronology report dates a floor joist to 1809 and other core samples reveal tree growth a few years later.
In 1830 Joseph Prinz took over the farm. His son Henry bought the farm in 1872 and his daughter, Susannah, born in 1861, married Eli Guterba, the son of Anthony, a local veterinarian, who apparently used the barn as an office. Kyle found his ledger – listing animals treated and their owners – in the barn rafters. According to his records, often goods, including farm produce and livestock, were used instead of cash payments. By the 1890s Susannah and Eli owned the farm.
Unfortunately, Eli lost a finger after being tangled in the barn’s hay hook and died from an infection in 1927, only a year before London’s Dr. Alexander Fleming accidentally discovered penicillin. By the early 1940s the wonder drug was saving lives.
The farm passed down family lines throughout the 20th century and, when Kyle’s mother Deborah died in 2020, he became the sixth generation to own the property. When Kyle’s father Gerald and his grandfather Edgar died within a few months of each other in 2015, Kyle was approached by someone who offered him a paltry amount ($5,000) to dismantle the barn and take its wood. Suspicious and still grieving, he passed on the offer and, with encouragement from his cousin Jared, he contacted Mt. Vernon’s barn consultant Pam Gray, who gave him a thorough and honest evaluation.
Today, Kyle, a nurse practitioner, and his cousin Jared, a mechanical engineer, use the barn for storage and they raise soybeans and corn on 110 acres. Kyle hopes to preserve the barn as he continues to buy adjacent land to return the farmstead to the original 273 acres.
The barn itself is a fine example of the scribe rule method of construction, evidenced by rare marriage marks – Roman numerals on connecting beams and, in this case, little flags as well. For centuries Europeans used this method, time consuming but effective, but in the early 19th century American barn builders invented the square rule technique, one that didn’t require marriage marks, was faster, and proved equally effective. The ancient wooden pegs in the mortise and tenon joints are rock solid.
The barn builder, either the Hahn family or someone they hired, built this Sweitzer barn, readily identifiable by its asymmetrical roof, forebay, and built into a natural bank. They laid a rubble and mortared stone foundation, apparently on solid bedrock – the foundation hasn’t shifted in over 200 years. Thirteen massive hand-hewn beams, spaced every four feet, support the forebay, which was used to shelter livestock during inclement weather.
There’s also evidence of reciprocating saw marks, up and down, which indicates the presence of an early water-powered saw. According to Kyle, early members of the Hahn family are buried on the property (one of the grave markers lists Adam Hahn). They owned a sawmill on nearby Yellow Creek, probably another source of income for the family.
Though the barn, formerly the “money maker” of the farm, no longer serves as it once did when the Hahn, Prinz and Guterba families supported their families by farming, it remains an iconic example of an age-old way that barns were built as well as a testament to the many lives it touched. Kyle and Jared should be proud that they are preserving this Guterba legacy.
It’s not often a barn owner pays for dendrochronology – from the College of Wooster – to date his barn, and it’s much less often when the report dates the tree to 1622, as was the case with this one. My Google Alert system found an article about the barn, written by Pam Gray, in Farm Progress. That article and the fact that the barn is located near my boyhood home in Mahoning County was all the motivation I needed. So, I visited Kyle Guterba, barn owner, and his cousin Jared, who also has worked on the farm for decades, in the fall of 2021. The barn astonished me.
The story traces back to the Revolutionary War, in which the founding farmer, Adam Hahn, fought and earned land grants for his service. Originally from Baltimore County, Maryland, Hahn, like many war veterans, looked westwards for more land and less congestion and he purchased this land in the Ohio territory in November, 1801. He appeared on the 1806 and 1810 tax lists and was one of the trustees who purchased land for Good Hope Lutheran and Reformed Church in 1810. Six years later he paid taxes on 590 acres and in April, 1820, Adam Hahn and wife Magdalena sold parcels of about 148 acres each to Adam Hahn, Jr., Peter Hahn, John Hahn, and others. Adam’s will, written 1827, was probated in 1830.
Though he possibly built a log barn or a small barn when he first settled, Hahn must have prospered enough to build this substantial structure. Kyle explained that the barn was completed in 1812 – the dendrochronology report dates a floor joist to 1809 and other core samples reveal tree growth a few years later.
In 1830 Joseph Prinz took over the farm. His son Henry bought the farm in 1872 and his daughter, Susannah, born in 1861, married Eli Guterba, the son of Anthony, a local veterinarian, who apparently used the barn as an office. Kyle found his ledger – listing animals treated and their owners – in the barn rafters. According to his records, often goods, including farm produce and livestock, were used instead of cash payments. By the 1890s Susannah and Eli owned the farm.
Unfortunately, Eli lost a finger after being tangled in the barn’s hay hook and died from an infection in 1927, only a year before London’s Dr. Alexander Fleming accidentally discovered penicillin. By the early 1940s the wonder drug was saving lives.
The farm passed down family lines throughout the 20th century and, when Kyle’s mother Deborah died in 2020, he became the sixth generation to own the property. When Kyle’s father Gerald and his grandfather Edgar died within a few months of each other in 2015, Kyle was approached by someone who offered him a paltry amount ($5,000) to dismantle the barn and take its wood. Suspicious and still grieving, he passed on the offer and, with encouragement from his cousin Jared, he contacted Mt. Vernon’s barn consultant Pam Gray, who gave him a thorough and honest evaluation.
Today, Kyle, a nurse practitioner, and his cousin Jared, a mechanical engineer, use the barn for storage and they raise soybeans and corn on 110 acres. Kyle hopes to preserve the barn as he continues to buy adjacent land to return the farmstead to the original 273 acres.
The barn itself is a fine example of the scribe rule method of construction, evidenced by rare marriage marks – Roman numerals on connecting beams and, in this case, little flags as well. For centuries Europeans used this method, time consuming but effective, but in the early 19th century American barn builders invented the square rule technique, one that didn’t require marriage marks, was faster, and proved equally effective. The ancient wooden pegs in the mortise and tenon joints are rock solid.
The barn builder, either the Hahn family or someone they hired, built this Sweitzer barn, readily identifiable by its asymmetrical roof, forebay, and built into a natural bank. They laid a rubble and mortared stone foundation, apparently on solid bedrock – the foundation hasn’t shifted in over 200 years. Thirteen massive hand-hewn beams, spaced every four feet, support the forebay, which was used to shelter livestock during inclement weather.
There’s also evidence of reciprocating saw marks, up and down, which indicates the presence of an early water-powered saw. According to Kyle, early members of the Hahn family are buried on the property (one of the grave markers lists Adam Hahn). They owned a sawmill on nearby Yellow Creek, probably another source of income for the family.
Though the barn, formerly the “money maker” of the farm, no longer serves as it once did when the Hahn, Prinz and Guterba families supported their families by farming, it remains an iconic example of an age-old way that barns were built as well as a testament to the many lives it touched. Kyle and Jared should be proud that they are preserving this Guterba legacy.
“The Canfield Cowboy”
The Anderson bicentennial farm represents ownership of this 200-acre farmstead from when Abraham Kline settled here, buying this land in 1814 for his son Jonathan – to present-day owner Wayne Anderson, whom I met in the fall of 2020. His sister, Linda Keylor, contacted me, thanks to a Vindicator story about my Ohio Barn Project, and encouraged me to visit, sending many newspaper articles about her interesting family, whose roots started in Germany.
George Klein (name eventually changed to Kline), born in Germany in 1719, came to America in 1738 and settled in Hosensack, Pennsylvania. He married, had three sons, and, besides being a prominent landowner, he started a tavern, the Buckhorn Hotel. In the American Revolution, he served in the Northampton Militia.
The Ohio history traces back to patriarch Abraham Kline, born in 1769 in Schuykill County, Pennsylvania, who journeyed west, presumably, for more land and less people. He settled on a farm on the banks of the Mahoning River in 1806. His biography in History of Trumbull and Mahoning County, states, “He was of German descent … stern, generous, and enterprising, persevering in business, but always kind and social in his dealings. His death occurred in the year 1816 … He accumulated a large estate, having farmed extensively and dealt successfully in livestock.” CLICK HERE FOR THE REST OF THIS STORY
The Anderson bicentennial farm represents ownership of this 200-acre farmstead from when Abraham Kline settled here, buying this land in 1814 for his son Jonathan – to present-day owner Wayne Anderson, whom I met in the fall of 2020. His sister, Linda Keylor, contacted me, thanks to a Vindicator story about my Ohio Barn Project, and encouraged me to visit, sending many newspaper articles about her interesting family, whose roots started in Germany.
George Klein (name eventually changed to Kline), born in Germany in 1719, came to America in 1738 and settled in Hosensack, Pennsylvania. He married, had three sons, and, besides being a prominent landowner, he started a tavern, the Buckhorn Hotel. In the American Revolution, he served in the Northampton Militia.
The Ohio history traces back to patriarch Abraham Kline, born in 1769 in Schuykill County, Pennsylvania, who journeyed west, presumably, for more land and less people. He settled on a farm on the banks of the Mahoning River in 1806. His biography in History of Trumbull and Mahoning County, states, “He was of German descent … stern, generous, and enterprising, persevering in business, but always kind and social in his dealings. His death occurred in the year 1816 … He accumulated a large estate, having farmed extensively and dealt successfully in livestock.” CLICK HERE FOR THE REST OF THIS STORY
“Kohler’s Castle”
Lee Kohler took ownership of this farm in 1976 when it included 100 acres. Today he farms soybeans and corn and raises beef cattle on 49 acres. Originally, when his ancestors started the farmstead in the middle 1880s, they ran a dairy business, according to Lee. An old milkhouse still remains.
Today the large barn, built in 1906, is still protected by a roof covered with Vermont slate. Lee said the barn’s siding, its red paint giving way to a weathered gray, came from Washington, a state known for its forestry. Most of the interior beams are saw-cut, though some are hand-hewn, repurposed from earlier barns.
Lee also told us that the farmhouse dates to 1838, a time when, thanks to the Ohio-Erie Canal, Ohio was transitioning from one of the poorest states in the Union to the third most prosperous in the 1840s. These days, Ohio has continued its agricultural success – with an annual economic impact of $124 billion – and this farm contributes its part, thanks to Kohler’s castle.
Lee Kohler took ownership of this farm in 1976 when it included 100 acres. Today he farms soybeans and corn and raises beef cattle on 49 acres. Originally, when his ancestors started the farmstead in the middle 1880s, they ran a dairy business, according to Lee. An old milkhouse still remains.
Today the large barn, built in 1906, is still protected by a roof covered with Vermont slate. Lee said the barn’s siding, its red paint giving way to a weathered gray, came from Washington, a state known for its forestry. Most of the interior beams are saw-cut, though some are hand-hewn, repurposed from earlier barns.
Lee also told us that the farmhouse dates to 1838, a time when, thanks to the Ohio-Erie Canal, Ohio was transitioning from one of the poorest states in the Union to the third most prosperous in the 1840s. These days, Ohio has continued its agricultural success – with an annual economic impact of $124 billion – and this farm contributes its part, thanks to Kohler’s castle.
“Brungard’s Bounty I, II”
Ohio doesn’t have many bicentennial farms, though this one has nearly reached that plateau as it approaches 2032, two centuries after the farm was founded. When we arrived, we met Matt Brungard, whose ancestor Cornelius George Brungard started the farmstead in 1832. Matt told us they have kept the original deed, signed by President James Madison.
From the founder, the farm passed to Charles Brungard, then to Richard, Sr., and finally to Richard, Jr., who took over ownership with his wife Patty in 1982. Matt and his dad farm together in a partnership and raise corn, soybeans, and oats as well as raspberries and tomatoes. When we met Matt in the fall of 2020, he was running a farmer’s market on top of a hill overlooking the barn.
Matt told us that the barn was built in 1874 and, as such, had probably replaced a barn built earlier. Inside, the saw-cut timber hinted at a nearby sawmill, though a few of the beams were hand-hewn, likely recycled from another barn. The farmhouse came later – 1886.
Brungard Road, named after the family, runs right next to the barn, but from a distance it couldn’t be seen in the first composition. However, a sliver of a nearby pond was visible, making me want to look for another scene. After walking around the pond, I found it: a reflection of the barn and its massive silo shimmering in the water, a fitting tribute to this farming family’s legacy.
Ohio doesn’t have many bicentennial farms, though this one has nearly reached that plateau as it approaches 2032, two centuries after the farm was founded. When we arrived, we met Matt Brungard, whose ancestor Cornelius George Brungard started the farmstead in 1832. Matt told us they have kept the original deed, signed by President James Madison.
From the founder, the farm passed to Charles Brungard, then to Richard, Sr., and finally to Richard, Jr., who took over ownership with his wife Patty in 1982. Matt and his dad farm together in a partnership and raise corn, soybeans, and oats as well as raspberries and tomatoes. When we met Matt in the fall of 2020, he was running a farmer’s market on top of a hill overlooking the barn.
Matt told us that the barn was built in 1874 and, as such, had probably replaced a barn built earlier. Inside, the saw-cut timber hinted at a nearby sawmill, though a few of the beams were hand-hewn, likely recycled from another barn. The farmhouse came later – 1886.
Brungard Road, named after the family, runs right next to the barn, but from a distance it couldn’t be seen in the first composition. However, a sliver of a nearby pond was visible, making me want to look for another scene. After walking around the pond, I found it: a reflection of the barn and its massive silo shimmering in the water, a fitting tribute to this farming family’s legacy.
“Brungard’s Bounty I, II”
Ohio doesn’t have many bicentennial farms, though this one has nearly reached that plateau as it approaches 2032, two centuries after the farm was founded. When we arrived, we met Matt Brungard, whose ancestor Cornelius George Brungard started the farmstead in 1832. Matt told us they have kept the original deed, signed by President James Madison.
From the founder, the farm passed to Charles Brungard, then to Richard, Sr., and finally to Richard, Jr., who took over ownership with his wife Patty in 1982. Matt and his dad farm together in a partnership and raise corn, soybeans, and oats as well as raspberries and tomatoes. When we met Matt in the fall of 2020, he was running a farmer’s market on top of a hill overlooking the barn.
Matt told us that the barn was built in 1874 and, as such, had probably replaced a barn built earlier. Inside, the saw-cut timber hinted at a nearby sawmill, though a few of the beams were hand-hewn, likely recycled from another barn. The farmhouse came later – 1886.
Brungard Road, named after the family, runs right next to the barn, but from a distance it couldn’t be seen in the first composition. However, a sliver of a nearby pond was visible, making me want to look for another scene. After walking around the pond, I found it: a reflection of the barn and its massive silo shimmering in the water, a fitting tribute to this farming family’s legacy.
Ohio doesn’t have many bicentennial farms, though this one has nearly reached that plateau as it approaches 2032, two centuries after the farm was founded. When we arrived, we met Matt Brungard, whose ancestor Cornelius George Brungard started the farmstead in 1832. Matt told us they have kept the original deed, signed by President James Madison.
From the founder, the farm passed to Charles Brungard, then to Richard, Sr., and finally to Richard, Jr., who took over ownership with his wife Patty in 1982. Matt and his dad farm together in a partnership and raise corn, soybeans, and oats as well as raspberries and tomatoes. When we met Matt in the fall of 2020, he was running a farmer’s market on top of a hill overlooking the barn.
Matt told us that the barn was built in 1874 and, as such, had probably replaced a barn built earlier. Inside, the saw-cut timber hinted at a nearby sawmill, though a few of the beams were hand-hewn, likely recycled from another barn. The farmhouse came later – 1886.
Brungard Road, named after the family, runs right next to the barn, but from a distance it couldn’t be seen in the first composition. However, a sliver of a nearby pond was visible, making me want to look for another scene. After walking around the pond, I found it: a reflection of the barn and its massive silo shimmering in the water, a fitting tribute to this farming family’s legacy.
“In the Nick of Time”
Barn scout Karry took me to this barn on Woodworth Road, nestled far away from traffic, an old bank barn, its blue paint fading to gray. From a photo taken 10 years earlier – included in the 2011 community barn calendar – the barn appeared to be in good condition, its slate roof holding up well over the years.
However, when we visited in the fall of 2020, the barn had been neglected. Massive vines had covered most of the front of the barn and tall weeds and brush had virtually hidden the rear add-on. When I made my way to the back, I was saddened to see that the large add-on had collapsed, exposing the entire right-hand side of the barn to the elements. The exposure also revealed many hand-hewn beams as well as the post and beam supported roof. Karry said she’d try to find the owners to let them know about this damage, probably related to a windstorm.
A door on the ground level of the barn led into livestock stalls and the two upper levels provided room for hay and crop storage, though there was no evidence of a nearby silo. Apparently, judging from the construction, the barn dates to the mid- to late-19th century, another memorable piece of Mahoning County’s agricultural heritage. I’m glad I was able to capture it in the nick of time.
Barn scout Karry took me to this barn on Woodworth Road, nestled far away from traffic, an old bank barn, its blue paint fading to gray. From a photo taken 10 years earlier – included in the 2011 community barn calendar – the barn appeared to be in good condition, its slate roof holding up well over the years.
However, when we visited in the fall of 2020, the barn had been neglected. Massive vines had covered most of the front of the barn and tall weeds and brush had virtually hidden the rear add-on. When I made my way to the back, I was saddened to see that the large add-on had collapsed, exposing the entire right-hand side of the barn to the elements. The exposure also revealed many hand-hewn beams as well as the post and beam supported roof. Karry said she’d try to find the owners to let them know about this damage, probably related to a windstorm.
A door on the ground level of the barn led into livestock stalls and the two upper levels provided room for hay and crop storage, though there was no evidence of a nearby silo. Apparently, judging from the construction, the barn dates to the mid- to late-19th century, another memorable piece of Mahoning County’s agricultural heritage. I’m glad I was able to capture it in the nick of time.
“Emma’s Easel”
This barn, circa 1854, was featured in the 2011 calendar of Springfield Community barns, sponsored by the local chamber of commerce. When barn scouts Karry and Penny and I knocked on the farmhouse door, we had hoped to meet the owner. Instead, Jim Mills’ 13-year-old daughter Emma greeted us. She explained that Jim’s father, Jack Mills, owned it but had recently passed away and, according to his will, Jim would be the next owner.
Emma, acting much older than a 13-year-old, calmly gave us, perfect strangers, permission to look around and peek inside the barn. But, before we got there, the first thing that caught my attention was an old log cabin, which Emma said was the original house, dating to 1830. A small log barn, built around the same time, had been dismantled – with its timber recycled into the present barn. Since still existing 1830-era log homes are rare in Ohio, I decided to include it in the composition – with the barn in the background.
Inside the barn, its large size suggesting that the farmer had prospered enough in 20 years to afford to build such a large barn, there were dozens of hand-hewn beams, some with bark still attached. Smaller logs, hewn on one side only, still supported the post and beam roof, which continued to hold the weight of slate, likely the replacement for original wood shakes. The lower level held several livestock pens and the upper level provided plenty of room for hay. Jim’s love of this old barn was evident in his work on rebuilding the foundation, which originally featured massive cut sandstone blocks.
After looking through the barn, we noticed an adjacent pond, took a walk to the opposite side, and found a second composition, one showing the barn’s reflection in the water. Thanks to Emma and her hospitality, this farmer’s old barn and his pioneer home are recorded in two paintings, captured forever for future generations.
This barn, circa 1854, was featured in the 2011 calendar of Springfield Community barns, sponsored by the local chamber of commerce. When barn scouts Karry and Penny and I knocked on the farmhouse door, we had hoped to meet the owner. Instead, Jim Mills’ 13-year-old daughter Emma greeted us. She explained that Jim’s father, Jack Mills, owned it but had recently passed away and, according to his will, Jim would be the next owner.
Emma, acting much older than a 13-year-old, calmly gave us, perfect strangers, permission to look around and peek inside the barn. But, before we got there, the first thing that caught my attention was an old log cabin, which Emma said was the original house, dating to 1830. A small log barn, built around the same time, had been dismantled – with its timber recycled into the present barn. Since still existing 1830-era log homes are rare in Ohio, I decided to include it in the composition – with the barn in the background.
Inside the barn, its large size suggesting that the farmer had prospered enough in 20 years to afford to build such a large barn, there were dozens of hand-hewn beams, some with bark still attached. Smaller logs, hewn on one side only, still supported the post and beam roof, which continued to hold the weight of slate, likely the replacement for original wood shakes. The lower level held several livestock pens and the upper level provided plenty of room for hay. Jim’s love of this old barn was evident in his work on rebuilding the foundation, which originally featured massive cut sandstone blocks.
After looking through the barn, we noticed an adjacent pond, took a walk to the opposite side, and found a second composition, one showing the barn’s reflection in the water. Thanks to Emma and her hospitality, this farmer’s old barn and his pioneer home are recorded in two paintings, captured forever for future generations.
“Emma’s Easel”
This barn, circa 1854, was featured in the 2011 calendar of Springfield Community barns, sponsored by the local chamber of commerce. When barn scouts Karry and Penny and I knocked on the farmhouse door, we had hoped to meet the owner. Instead, Jim Mills’ 13-year-old daughter Emma greeted us. She explained that Jim’s father, Jack Mills, owned it but had recently passed away and, according to his will, Jim would be the next owner.
Emma, acting much older than a 13-year-old, calmly gave us, perfect strangers, permission to look around and peek inside the barn. But, before we got there, the first thing that caught my attention was an old log cabin, which Emma said was the original house, dating to 1830. A small log barn, built around the same time, had been dismantled – with its timber recycled into the present barn. Since still existing 1830-era log homes are rare in Ohio, I decided to include it in the composition – with the barn in the background.
Inside the barn, its large size suggesting that the farmer had prospered enough in 20 years to afford to build such a large barn, there were dozens of hand-hewn beams, some with bark still attached. Smaller logs, hewn on one side only, still supported the post and beam roof, which continued to hold the weight of slate, likely the replacement for original wood shakes. The lower level held several livestock pens and the upper level provided plenty of room for hay. Jim’s love of this old barn was evident in his work on rebuilding the foundation, which originally featured massive cut sandstone blocks.
After looking through the barn, we noticed an adjacent pond, took a walk to the opposite side, and found a second composition, one showing the barn’s reflection in the water. Thanks to Emma and her hospitality, this farmer’s old barn and his pioneer home are recorded in two paintings, captured forever for future generations.
This barn, circa 1854, was featured in the 2011 calendar of Springfield Community barns, sponsored by the local chamber of commerce. When barn scouts Karry and Penny and I knocked on the farmhouse door, we had hoped to meet the owner. Instead, Jim Mills’ 13-year-old daughter Emma greeted us. She explained that Jim’s father, Jack Mills, owned it but had recently passed away and, according to his will, Jim would be the next owner.
Emma, acting much older than a 13-year-old, calmly gave us, perfect strangers, permission to look around and peek inside the barn. But, before we got there, the first thing that caught my attention was an old log cabin, which Emma said was the original house, dating to 1830. A small log barn, built around the same time, had been dismantled – with its timber recycled into the present barn. Since still existing 1830-era log homes are rare in Ohio, I decided to include it in the composition – with the barn in the background.
Inside the barn, its large size suggesting that the farmer had prospered enough in 20 years to afford to build such a large barn, there were dozens of hand-hewn beams, some with bark still attached. Smaller logs, hewn on one side only, still supported the post and beam roof, which continued to hold the weight of slate, likely the replacement for original wood shakes. The lower level held several livestock pens and the upper level provided plenty of room for hay. Jim’s love of this old barn was evident in his work on rebuilding the foundation, which originally featured massive cut sandstone blocks.
After looking through the barn, we noticed an adjacent pond, took a walk to the opposite side, and found a second composition, one showing the barn’s reflection in the water. Thanks to Emma and her hospitality, this farmer’s old barn and his pioneer home are recorded in two paintings, captured forever for future generations.
“Weathered”
This old barn, its red paint fading to a weathered gray tone, came as a complete surprise. As barn scouts Karry and Penny and I looked at it, we weren’t too impressed, especially since the calendar dated it to 1900. A quaint cement-block milk house added some interest as did the built-up bank leading to an entrance to the second level. I decided to investigate.
Inside came as a shock: the timber framing was ancient. Although dendrochronology could be used to pinpoint a date, everything about the hand-hewn beams and the mortise and tenon joints hinted at pre-Civil War construction. Several livestock pens may have housed dairy cows or beef cattle. The earthen bank led directly down to the edge of the road, which, presumably, was an old dirt trail, providing an easy exit for wagon loads of crops. In the rear, hand-hewn struts protrude, supporting a forebay extension, another sign of an old, old barn. The size – 30 feet by 60 feet – though not enormous, would have been enough to support a modest early 19th century farm. If I had to guess, I’d say this was built in the 1830s.
Across the road there was another shock: free food. As I left the barn, I noticed a roadside stand a fellow had just assembled with a sign, “free vegetables.” On a table were some of the largest zucchini I had ever seen. The gentleman told me, “I had a huge harvest and didn’t want them to go to waste.” So I took two for the barn scouts and one for my wife. Such kindness doesn’t go unrewarded.
My barn scouts explained that the new owners had recently covered the barn with a new metal roof, an encouraging sign. Perhaps more information will surface and unravel stories about this old barn, though weathered, not forgotten.
This old barn, its red paint fading to a weathered gray tone, came as a complete surprise. As barn scouts Karry and Penny and I looked at it, we weren’t too impressed, especially since the calendar dated it to 1900. A quaint cement-block milk house added some interest as did the built-up bank leading to an entrance to the second level. I decided to investigate.
Inside came as a shock: the timber framing was ancient. Although dendrochronology could be used to pinpoint a date, everything about the hand-hewn beams and the mortise and tenon joints hinted at pre-Civil War construction. Several livestock pens may have housed dairy cows or beef cattle. The earthen bank led directly down to the edge of the road, which, presumably, was an old dirt trail, providing an easy exit for wagon loads of crops. In the rear, hand-hewn struts protrude, supporting a forebay extension, another sign of an old, old barn. The size – 30 feet by 60 feet – though not enormous, would have been enough to support a modest early 19th century farm. If I had to guess, I’d say this was built in the 1830s.
Across the road there was another shock: free food. As I left the barn, I noticed a roadside stand a fellow had just assembled with a sign, “free vegetables.” On a table were some of the largest zucchini I had ever seen. The gentleman told me, “I had a huge harvest and didn’t want them to go to waste.” So I took two for the barn scouts and one for my wife. Such kindness doesn’t go unrewarded.
My barn scouts explained that the new owners had recently covered the barn with a new metal roof, an encouraging sign. Perhaps more information will surface and unravel stories about this old barn, though weathered, not forgotten.
“Tiny”
Before we reached this barn, Karry said that the Barnwood Builders – from DIY network fame – had been here earlier in the summer. After driving down a long dirt-and-grass trail, we walked through knee-high weeds, finally arriving at a small house foundation, completely sealed off with plastic sheathing. Yes, the Barnwood Builders had been here, but not to dismantle an old barn – they took the log cabin apart. Presumably it dated to the pre-Civil War era.
Next up was this little barn, which was probably built around 1900 – saw-cut timber and post and beam construction – and was likely used to store carriages and perhaps a few horses. Hay would have been kept on the upper level. The windows on the four front doors, six by twos, mimicked a garage for automobiles but that was unlikely since this spot was well hidden and far from the road.
Inside, a John Deere tractor appeared unused for some time – as did a hodgepodge of assorted tools – but electric wiring and lights told another story. The barn had been used for repair work. What was more interesting, however was a mystery: lying against the wall were about a dozen four- to six-foot planks, two inches thick, with wooden pegs protruding. According to a barn expert, they were old floor boards, probably from the early 18th century and may have been left over from the log house or possibly from a barn about 30 yards away, one that definitely dates to the time before the Civil War. Old barns can be full of surprises.
According to Karry, the former owners, Ralph and Ruth Sprinkle, have passed the farm onto their granddaughter, though there isn’t much known about the original settlers. Whoever they were, they knew how to put a mortise and tenon joint together – as shown in the old barn. This “newer” one, almost completely engulfed by trees, may have signaled the end of the timber-framed era and the beginning of the 20th century. And, regardless of its tiny size, it must have served its owners well – a metal roof has been installed. The barn may be hidden and tiny, but it won’t be forgotten, thanks to this painting and essay.
Before we reached this barn, Karry said that the Barnwood Builders – from DIY network fame – had been here earlier in the summer. After driving down a long dirt-and-grass trail, we walked through knee-high weeds, finally arriving at a small house foundation, completely sealed off with plastic sheathing. Yes, the Barnwood Builders had been here, but not to dismantle an old barn – they took the log cabin apart. Presumably it dated to the pre-Civil War era.
Next up was this little barn, which was probably built around 1900 – saw-cut timber and post and beam construction – and was likely used to store carriages and perhaps a few horses. Hay would have been kept on the upper level. The windows on the four front doors, six by twos, mimicked a garage for automobiles but that was unlikely since this spot was well hidden and far from the road.
Inside, a John Deere tractor appeared unused for some time – as did a hodgepodge of assorted tools – but electric wiring and lights told another story. The barn had been used for repair work. What was more interesting, however was a mystery: lying against the wall were about a dozen four- to six-foot planks, two inches thick, with wooden pegs protruding. According to a barn expert, they were old floor boards, probably from the early 18th century and may have been left over from the log house or possibly from a barn about 30 yards away, one that definitely dates to the time before the Civil War. Old barns can be full of surprises.
According to Karry, the former owners, Ralph and Ruth Sprinkle, have passed the farm onto their granddaughter, though there isn’t much known about the original settlers. Whoever they were, they knew how to put a mortise and tenon joint together – as shown in the old barn. This “newer” one, almost completely engulfed by trees, may have signaled the end of the timber-framed era and the beginning of the 20th century. And, regardless of its tiny size, it must have served its owners well – a metal roof has been installed. The barn may be hidden and tiny, but it won’t be forgotten, thanks to this painting and essay.
"The Forgotten Forebay"
After we saw "Tiny," the barn just described, we trudged deeper into the woods and scrub to find this magnificent timber-framed forebay barn. The hand-hewn beams hinted at a mid-19th century construction time. It was simply a beautiful bank barn but, alas, was sadly neglected, its only saving grace being a sturdy metal roof ... and its story lost forever.
After we saw "Tiny," the barn just described, we trudged deeper into the woods and scrub to find this magnificent timber-framed forebay barn. The hand-hewn beams hinted at a mid-19th century construction time. It was simply a beautiful bank barn but, alas, was sadly neglected, its only saving grace being a sturdy metal roof ... and its story lost forever.
“The Entrepreneur”
Barn scout Karry and her husband Don purchased this 10-acre farm – along with the barn – in 1974. At the time they farmed alfalfa, hay, and winter wheat … and had plenty of chickens. In 2004 they sold it to their son, Bryan Snyder, who is the current owner. He’s changed the business, now raising 100 head of beef cattle. A sign in front advertises farm fresh eggs and deer corn. This is a working farm, taking advantage of this old, yet well-constructed, barn.
Inside, there’s a mixture of hand-hewn and saw-cut timber, which along with the adjacent farmhouse dating to 1879, hints that the barn was built in the late 1800s. According to Karry, the farm was founded around the time of the Civil War and once was the largest dairy farm in the region.
But the real story behind this barn and farm is Don, whom I met only briefly and didn’t get a chance to interview – which was a good thing since I’d probably want to write a book. The story began in 1963 when Karry, then 17, met Don through their parents. After they got married, Don started a number of businesses, which grew over time. One of them would fit into the niche of any historical preservationist – restoring vintage autos. Now he’s had to hire workers to keep up with the demand. I caught a glimpse of a classic Ford Mustang in a garage.
He’s also been a farmer and, thanks to his other flourishing endeavors, he’s managed to build a state-of-the-art home high on a hill, overlooking a valley, pond, and a yard, where it must take a few days to cut the grass. Most importantly, no one gave him this: he and Karry worked for it, an important lesson that they hope to pass on to their children, who live close by, always a reflection on healthy family relationships. The barn’s been well maintained, it’s roof is intact, and the sides are protected by metal, assuring it will be here for a long time, thanks to Karry and her entrepreneur.
Barn scout Karry and her husband Don purchased this 10-acre farm – along with the barn – in 1974. At the time they farmed alfalfa, hay, and winter wheat … and had plenty of chickens. In 2004 they sold it to their son, Bryan Snyder, who is the current owner. He’s changed the business, now raising 100 head of beef cattle. A sign in front advertises farm fresh eggs and deer corn. This is a working farm, taking advantage of this old, yet well-constructed, barn.
Inside, there’s a mixture of hand-hewn and saw-cut timber, which along with the adjacent farmhouse dating to 1879, hints that the barn was built in the late 1800s. According to Karry, the farm was founded around the time of the Civil War and once was the largest dairy farm in the region.
But the real story behind this barn and farm is Don, whom I met only briefly and didn’t get a chance to interview – which was a good thing since I’d probably want to write a book. The story began in 1963 when Karry, then 17, met Don through their parents. After they got married, Don started a number of businesses, which grew over time. One of them would fit into the niche of any historical preservationist – restoring vintage autos. Now he’s had to hire workers to keep up with the demand. I caught a glimpse of a classic Ford Mustang in a garage.
He’s also been a farmer and, thanks to his other flourishing endeavors, he’s managed to build a state-of-the-art home high on a hill, overlooking a valley, pond, and a yard, where it must take a few days to cut the grass. Most importantly, no one gave him this: he and Karry worked for it, an important lesson that they hope to pass on to their children, who live close by, always a reflection on healthy family relationships. The barn’s been well maintained, it’s roof is intact, and the sides are protected by metal, assuring it will be here for a long time, thanks to Karry and her entrepreneur.
“Preserved”
This was our last stop of the barn tour, although it wasn’t planned – barn scout Karry and I were looking for another barn on South Range Road that was featured on the calendar. It was an outstanding composition: surrounded by trees and fronted by a tiny pond, showing the barn’s reflection. But the hour was growing late and we were running out of road and so, after we passed this old barn, a pretty good composition itself, I asked Karry to return to take a look.
Although we had no information on this barn, we were lucky that a truck was leaving the driveway as we pulled in. After we, two unknowns, parked, the truck returned and Tom Lewis, the owner along with his wife Kendra, introduced himself. After I explained my Ohio Barn Project, he consented to allowing me to go inside the barn.
Since it was large, it probably replaced one or more smaller, timber-framed barns on this farm, which, like many others in southern Mahoning County, traced back well into the 19th century. Whoever the farmer was, he had to be prosperous to have built such as large barn. The L-shaped add-on may have come a little later – or it may have been part of the original construction. Inside, the saw-cut beams point to the late 1890s or early 1900s and the wooden peg attachments hint that the builder was making a transition from hand-hewn timber framing to the more modern post and beam joinery. Attractive fieldstone, securing the earthen ramp to the barn’s second floor, was still intact – after a century of use.
When Tom purchased the property in 1996, the barn was badly deteriorated, probably from decades of neglect. As farms disappear, so do their old barns. Wisely, Tom, a fellow old barn lover, covered the barn with a new metal roof, which has saved it. And, although some of its boards are missing and warped, it remains for all to see as they drive along this road, a symbol of an era past and, thanks to its owners, nicely preserved.
This was our last stop of the barn tour, although it wasn’t planned – barn scout Karry and I were looking for another barn on South Range Road that was featured on the calendar. It was an outstanding composition: surrounded by trees and fronted by a tiny pond, showing the barn’s reflection. But the hour was growing late and we were running out of road and so, after we passed this old barn, a pretty good composition itself, I asked Karry to return to take a look.
Although we had no information on this barn, we were lucky that a truck was leaving the driveway as we pulled in. After we, two unknowns, parked, the truck returned and Tom Lewis, the owner along with his wife Kendra, introduced himself. After I explained my Ohio Barn Project, he consented to allowing me to go inside the barn.
Since it was large, it probably replaced one or more smaller, timber-framed barns on this farm, which, like many others in southern Mahoning County, traced back well into the 19th century. Whoever the farmer was, he had to be prosperous to have built such as large barn. The L-shaped add-on may have come a little later – or it may have been part of the original construction. Inside, the saw-cut beams point to the late 1890s or early 1900s and the wooden peg attachments hint that the builder was making a transition from hand-hewn timber framing to the more modern post and beam joinery. Attractive fieldstone, securing the earthen ramp to the barn’s second floor, was still intact – after a century of use.
When Tom purchased the property in 1996, the barn was badly deteriorated, probably from decades of neglect. As farms disappear, so do their old barns. Wisely, Tom, a fellow old barn lover, covered the barn with a new metal roof, which has saved it. And, although some of its boards are missing and warped, it remains for all to see as they drive along this road, a symbol of an era past and, thanks to its owners, nicely preserved.
“Chickens and Foxes”
This large forebay barn, one of the oldest surviving in Mahoning County, sits high on a hill and about 400 yards from State Route 617, near Petersburg and only a short jog from the Pennsylvania state line. According to Penny Felger, barn owner along with her husband Bart, the barn was built in 1856, shortly before the Civil War. Its expert timber framing of the hand-hewn beams with mortise and tenon joints has stood the test of time as it approaches bicentennial status. The stanchions on the lower level hint that this was once a dairy farm. Today Penny and Bart lease their 23 acres for corn and hay production.
As we walked around the barn, Penny told me about her productive crop of 20 chickens and their dreaded enemy, the fox, who, over the years, has feasted here. Another predator, a hawk, has now been thwarted – with a protective mesh screen over the coop. Seems that everybody loves chickens – even artists like me.
When I asked Penny about the adjacent log cabin, she said that her husband built it and added the attractive stone chimney, adding a pioneer look to the property. He also uncovered hand-hewn beams in their farmhouse, rekindling more memories of the original settlers of this farm. And thanks to Bart, who does everything from replacing broken slates on the roof to installing new barn doors, this barn will continue to survive, a testament to the dedication of its current ownership and a living memory of the founding farmers.
This large forebay barn, one of the oldest surviving in Mahoning County, sits high on a hill and about 400 yards from State Route 617, near Petersburg and only a short jog from the Pennsylvania state line. According to Penny Felger, barn owner along with her husband Bart, the barn was built in 1856, shortly before the Civil War. Its expert timber framing of the hand-hewn beams with mortise and tenon joints has stood the test of time as it approaches bicentennial status. The stanchions on the lower level hint that this was once a dairy farm. Today Penny and Bart lease their 23 acres for corn and hay production.
As we walked around the barn, Penny told me about her productive crop of 20 chickens and their dreaded enemy, the fox, who, over the years, has feasted here. Another predator, a hawk, has now been thwarted – with a protective mesh screen over the coop. Seems that everybody loves chickens – even artists like me.
When I asked Penny about the adjacent log cabin, she said that her husband built it and added the attractive stone chimney, adding a pioneer look to the property. He also uncovered hand-hewn beams in their farmhouse, rekindling more memories of the original settlers of this farm. And thanks to Bart, who does everything from replacing broken slates on the roof to installing new barn doors, this barn will continue to survive, a testament to the dedication of its current ownership and a living memory of the founding farmers.
MARION
“Seven Sisters”
Kay Lamb, current owner of this 150-acre farm, explained that Joseph Kester, a traveling Lutheran minister as well as a master carpenter, built the 1850-era farmhouse where her nephew David now lives. Kester may have built a barn at the time, but it didn’t last. In 1880 the Retterer family took over the farm and David Retterer built the present barn in 1886.
He and his wife Elizabeth farmed the land and had eight children, the youngest of whom was the first boy, named Welcome. But he died in infancy. In 19th-century Ohio, farmers had lots of children, always hoping for sons to help with farming and eventually to assume ownership. To lose the only son must have been hard on them. Perhaps his loss was just as difficult as the seven sisters experienced living in a small three-bedroom farmhouse with their parents – one room for the parents and two for the girls. Seven of them in two bedrooms. Imagine that! Pioneer women were tough.
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.
Kay Lamb, current owner of this 150-acre farm, explained that Joseph Kester, a traveling Lutheran minister as well as a master carpenter, built the 1850-era farmhouse where her nephew David now lives. Kester may have built a barn at the time, but it didn’t last. In 1880 the Retterer family took over the farm and David Retterer built the present barn in 1886.
He and his wife Elizabeth farmed the land and had eight children, the youngest of whom was the first boy, named Welcome. But he died in infancy. In 19th-century Ohio, farmers had lots of children, always hoping for sons to help with farming and eventually to assume ownership. To lose the only son must have been hard on them. Perhaps his loss was just as difficult as the seven sisters experienced living in a small three-bedroom farmhouse with their parents – one room for the parents and two for the girls. Seven of them in two bedrooms. Imagine that! Pioneer women were tough.
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.
MEDINA
“Longview Acres”
As I drove south from Lorain County and through the northern part of Medina County, I was enthralled by the number of outstanding old barns that I passed, making me hope that I’d be invited back for a full barn tour someday. David Schmidt, a young man with a passion about his old barn read about me in the Ohio Country Journal and invited me to visit. I was glad to meet someone so young with such an interest in Ohio antiquity.
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.
As I drove south from Lorain County and through the northern part of Medina County, I was enthralled by the number of outstanding old barns that I passed, making me hope that I’d be invited back for a full barn tour someday. David Schmidt, a young man with a passion about his old barn read about me in the Ohio Country Journal and invited me to visit. I was glad to meet someone so young with such an interest in Ohio antiquity.
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.
MEIGS
“Presidential”
Courtney Midkiff, daughter of barn owner Cecil Midkiff, contacted me after reading an article about my barn project in the Pomeroy Sentinel newspaper. She wrote that her family has owned the farm since 1822, making them eligible to become a rare Ohio bicentennial farm in a few years.
After negotiating the twisting roads of Morgan and Athens counties, pushing me behind schedule, I finally arrived at the simple English threshing barn, one used for hay storage and dairy cattle. The family leases out 75 of the 140 acres for hay and corn, some of whose orange and ochre-colored stalks added to the painting’s composition, as did the rustic barn siding, which Cecil supplied for the frame.
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.
Courtney Midkiff, daughter of barn owner Cecil Midkiff, contacted me after reading an article about my barn project in the Pomeroy Sentinel newspaper. She wrote that her family has owned the farm since 1822, making them eligible to become a rare Ohio bicentennial farm in a few years.
After negotiating the twisting roads of Morgan and Athens counties, pushing me behind schedule, I finally arrived at the simple English threshing barn, one used for hay storage and dairy cattle. The family leases out 75 of the 140 acres for hay and corn, some of whose orange and ochre-colored stalks added to the painting’s composition, as did the rustic barn siding, which Cecil supplied for the frame.
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.
MERCER
“Winter’s First Blast”
After delivering Darke County barn paintings to Jenny at the Garst Museum in Greenville early on a November morning, I headed north on Route 127, hoping to find a barn in four counties – Mercer, Van Wert, Paulding, and Defiance. It was dawn but there was no sun. Just a blizzard. By the time I crossed the county line into Mercer County, the snow intensified, almost to white-out level. Fortunately, the ground was still warm so that the roads remained clear, but visibility was not good. In hindsight, I suppose I was lucky to spot this complex of an old brick farmhouse and a barn with three cupolas – since the snow blotted out much of the details. I did a sketch, took photos, and hoped that I’d find some information about this old beauty, not far from Coldwater, a town appropriately named, and one, I remembered, where one of my dental school classmates practiced. I looked up his practice and called the dentists who took over, hoping to shed some light on this barn’s story.
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 delivering Darke County barn paintings to Jenny at the Garst Museum in Greenville early on a November morning, I headed north on Route 127, hoping to find a barn in four counties – Mercer, Van Wert, Paulding, and Defiance. It was dawn but there was no sun. Just a blizzard. By the time I crossed the county line into Mercer County, the snow intensified, almost to white-out level. Fortunately, the ground was still warm so that the roads remained clear, but visibility was not good. In hindsight, I suppose I was lucky to spot this complex of an old brick farmhouse and a barn with three cupolas – since the snow blotted out much of the details. I did a sketch, took photos, and hoped that I’d find some information about this old beauty, not far from Coldwater, a town appropriately named, and one, I remembered, where one of my dental school classmates practiced. I looked up his practice and called the dentists who took over, hoping to shed some light on this barn’s story.
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.
MIAMI
“Colonel Johnston’s”
There’s a lot to see at the Johnston Farm and Indian Agency, located in Piqua, Ohio, right off I-75, north of Dayton. One of Ohio’s historical gems, the farm features a spring house, a cider house, an 1815 federal brick farmhouse, an Adena Indian earthwork and mound, a canal boat and the chance to ride on it, and, of course, the barn, a rare log double-pen barn, one of few left in Ohio and probably one of Ohio’s first ones, built in 1808. Throughout the year, the farm plans activities for the entire family, ranging from re-enactors portraying early Ohio history to a relaxing ride on the General Harrison on the Miami and Erie Canal.
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.
There’s a lot to see at the Johnston Farm and Indian Agency, located in Piqua, Ohio, right off I-75, north of Dayton. One of Ohio’s historical gems, the farm features a spring house, a cider house, an 1815 federal brick farmhouse, an Adena Indian earthwork and mound, a canal boat and the chance to ride on it, and, of course, the barn, a rare log double-pen barn, one of few left in Ohio and probably one of Ohio’s first ones, built in 1808. Throughout the year, the farm plans activities for the entire family, ranging from re-enactors portraying early Ohio history to a relaxing ride on the General Harrison on the Miami and Erie Canal.
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.
MONROE
"Kindelberger New"
Thanks to its gracious owners, this barn, one of Ohio's best and honored by being listed in the National Register of Historic Places, is preserved not only in this painting but also in its own wood. Its intriguing story begins with 11-year-old Frederick Kindelberger, Jr., who moved here with his parents from Bavaria in 1835. He started building this stone barn in 1883, quarrying sandstone from the farm. The story is spiced with plenty of German ingenuity ... and hard work.
And, they now offer hospitality in a wonderful rustic rental cabin, which gives this view of the barns. When I stayed in it for two nights during a fundraiser event in October, 2021, it reminded me of the lodge in Yellowstone. Hard to find, but it's worth it! Click here for info on the cabin.
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.
Thanks to its gracious owners, this barn, one of Ohio's best and honored by being listed in the National Register of Historic Places, is preserved not only in this painting but also in its own wood. Its intriguing story begins with 11-year-old Frederick Kindelberger, Jr., who moved here with his parents from Bavaria in 1835. He started building this stone barn in 1883, quarrying sandstone from the farm. The story is spiced with plenty of German ingenuity ... and hard work.
And, they now offer hospitality in a wonderful rustic rental cabin, which gives this view of the barns. When I stayed in it for two nights during a fundraiser event in October, 2021, it reminded me of the lodge in Yellowstone. Hard to find, but it's worth it! Click here for info on the cabin.
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.
“Kindelberger Old”
It would not be fair to paint Kindelberger’s stone barn, nationally recognized, and ignore the original, a barn that sits quietly in the shadows of the famous one but still manages to exude rustic charm. As I wrote about the famous 1883 stone barn, barns and farms that pass from one or two generations are fairly common, but one that has passed to the fifth generation – Marge Baumberger – qualifies as unique. Click here for the rest of this story.
It would not be fair to paint Kindelberger’s stone barn, nationally recognized, and ignore the original, a barn that sits quietly in the shadows of the famous one but still manages to exude rustic charm. As I wrote about the famous 1883 stone barn, barns and farms that pass from one or two generations are fairly common, but one that has passed to the fifth generation – Marge Baumberger – qualifies as unique. Click here for the rest of this story.
“The Long and Winding Road”
John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote this song, which the Beatles recorded and which was written about the B842 in Scotland near Paul McCartney’s farm, close to Campbeltown, Scotland – a twisty road that always inspired him. Of course they could have based their song on most of the roads in Monroe County, the Switzerland of Ohio, where flat, straight roads are the exception – including the one that leads to this one, a curving gravel tract.
Sara Kraft, who owns the farm with her husband Paul, explained that their roots go back to Germany, when Paul’s great-grandfather, John Kraft, started farming here in the early 1850s. He might have built this old barn, though it may have been present earlier, perhaps in the 1830-1840 era, suggested by the extensive hand-hewing and the 53-foot swing beam, high under the roof. The impressive original stone foundation may be sitting on solid bedrock since there’s no evidence of cracking or shifting. It’s a splendid example of German stonemasonry.
Other buildings have come and gone, including the log house near the barn, where Paul was born in 1934. His father was also born in a log home – in 1897. Today, Sara and Paul, who took ownership in 1985, raise cattle, dairy cows, and chickens as well as wheat and corn – on their 92 acres. They’ve also protected the barn with sturdy metal on both roof and siding, showing their admiration for this Ohio treasure and, to continue the Beatles song, assuring that the barn and the road “that leads to your door will never disappear.” Yes, this painting is done - as is one of a rustic barn door - but I can't find them. Rats! Regardless, they'll both be in fundraisers for the historical society sometime in 2022.
John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote this song, which the Beatles recorded and which was written about the B842 in Scotland near Paul McCartney’s farm, close to Campbeltown, Scotland – a twisty road that always inspired him. Of course they could have based their song on most of the roads in Monroe County, the Switzerland of Ohio, where flat, straight roads are the exception – including the one that leads to this one, a curving gravel tract.
Sara Kraft, who owns the farm with her husband Paul, explained that their roots go back to Germany, when Paul’s great-grandfather, John Kraft, started farming here in the early 1850s. He might have built this old barn, though it may have been present earlier, perhaps in the 1830-1840 era, suggested by the extensive hand-hewing and the 53-foot swing beam, high under the roof. The impressive original stone foundation may be sitting on solid bedrock since there’s no evidence of cracking or shifting. It’s a splendid example of German stonemasonry.
Other buildings have come and gone, including the log house near the barn, where Paul was born in 1934. His father was also born in a log home – in 1897. Today, Sara and Paul, who took ownership in 1985, raise cattle, dairy cows, and chickens as well as wheat and corn – on their 92 acres. They’ve also protected the barn with sturdy metal on both roof and siding, showing their admiration for this Ohio treasure and, to continue the Beatles song, assuring that the barn and the road “that leads to your door will never disappear.” Yes, this painting is done - as is one of a rustic barn door - but I can't find them. Rats! Regardless, they'll both be in fundraisers for the historical society sometime in 2022.
“The Quilt”
Over the decades, Monroe County farms have been gobbled up by the government as it bought them for conversion into the Wayne National Forest, the only national forest in Ohio. The large tract of land near Cleveland and Akron, also densely forested, is the only national park in Ohio – the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. However, despite the encroachment into the charm of Monroe County, many farms and barns still remain … including this one, owned by Paul Dietrich and his wife Sandy.
Paul’s grandfather was a brother of barn scout Gary’s grandfather, as Gary explained when we visited this barn in the fall of 2021. He said that Paul’s dad raised minks for their pelts, which is one farm business that I hadn’t encountered. Wonder if he sold mink coats in downtown Woodsfield, the county seat.
These days the Dietrichs still actively farm, raising beef cattle – after years of having dairy cows. In fact, 85-year-old Paul still drives a school bus, but only for sporting events. There’s no sense in letting age catch up with you.
The barn appears to be the transitional type (circa 1890-1910) – saw-cut lumber, connected with mortise and tenon joinery, held together with wooden pegs. Inside, bales of hay lie stacked high against the far wall, which has many openings in the siding, not particularly good for the barn’s longevity, although a metal roof keeps the main timbers dry. Hanging from the rafters is a large modern hay hook, attached with a metal chain, which probably gets a lot of use, judging from the stacks of hay.
A smaller, and likely much older barn, built into the hillside just below the quilt barn, sits on massive sandstone blocks, which haven’t shifted, hinting that the farmer knew this was a good place for a foundation. Even though trees covered much of it, I decided to remove some of them. After all, an old barn deserves recognition.
But, the quilt, a large one, was the showstopper. Quilts, painted on large wooden plaques, became popular items on barns decades ago, beginning in Adams and Brown counties. Since then, they’ve spread throughout Ohio and other states, prompting some states to advertise driving tours, another effort to promote tourism. Ohio may not have ocean breezes, Rocky Mountain highs, or Old Faithful, but it does have a lot of quaint old barns … and now many with quilts.
The Adams County Quilt Sampler started this phenomenon in 2001, followed by Brown County, and then quickly by The Patchwork Jewels of Monroe County, where Bicentennial barn artist Scott Hagan painted quilt patterns directly on the barns. Since then 41 other Ohio counties have joined the quilt barn club. In fact, only barn-crazy states such as Iowa, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Kansas have been able to match numbers with Ohio in this original Ohio tradition. At least two books have been published on quilt barns.
Since we approached this barn from a distance, with a pond below in a valley, I decided to do two paintings – one showing the barn in the background and the pond in the foreground and another with the quilt getting more attention. Monroe County, not known for its straight roads, is a mecca for artists, thanks to scenes such as this … and, of course, the quilt.
Over the decades, Monroe County farms have been gobbled up by the government as it bought them for conversion into the Wayne National Forest, the only national forest in Ohio. The large tract of land near Cleveland and Akron, also densely forested, is the only national park in Ohio – the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. However, despite the encroachment into the charm of Monroe County, many farms and barns still remain … including this one, owned by Paul Dietrich and his wife Sandy.
Paul’s grandfather was a brother of barn scout Gary’s grandfather, as Gary explained when we visited this barn in the fall of 2021. He said that Paul’s dad raised minks for their pelts, which is one farm business that I hadn’t encountered. Wonder if he sold mink coats in downtown Woodsfield, the county seat.
These days the Dietrichs still actively farm, raising beef cattle – after years of having dairy cows. In fact, 85-year-old Paul still drives a school bus, but only for sporting events. There’s no sense in letting age catch up with you.
The barn appears to be the transitional type (circa 1890-1910) – saw-cut lumber, connected with mortise and tenon joinery, held together with wooden pegs. Inside, bales of hay lie stacked high against the far wall, which has many openings in the siding, not particularly good for the barn’s longevity, although a metal roof keeps the main timbers dry. Hanging from the rafters is a large modern hay hook, attached with a metal chain, which probably gets a lot of use, judging from the stacks of hay.
A smaller, and likely much older barn, built into the hillside just below the quilt barn, sits on massive sandstone blocks, which haven’t shifted, hinting that the farmer knew this was a good place for a foundation. Even though trees covered much of it, I decided to remove some of them. After all, an old barn deserves recognition.
But, the quilt, a large one, was the showstopper. Quilts, painted on large wooden plaques, became popular items on barns decades ago, beginning in Adams and Brown counties. Since then, they’ve spread throughout Ohio and other states, prompting some states to advertise driving tours, another effort to promote tourism. Ohio may not have ocean breezes, Rocky Mountain highs, or Old Faithful, but it does have a lot of quaint old barns … and now many with quilts.
The Adams County Quilt Sampler started this phenomenon in 2001, followed by Brown County, and then quickly by The Patchwork Jewels of Monroe County, where Bicentennial barn artist Scott Hagan painted quilt patterns directly on the barns. Since then 41 other Ohio counties have joined the quilt barn club. In fact, only barn-crazy states such as Iowa, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Kansas have been able to match numbers with Ohio in this original Ohio tradition. At least two books have been published on quilt barns.
Since we approached this barn from a distance, with a pond below in a valley, I decided to do two paintings – one showing the barn in the background and the pond in the foreground and another with the quilt getting more attention. Monroe County, not known for its straight roads, is a mecca for artists, thanks to scenes such as this … and, of course, the quilt.
Same quilt barn, a bit closer ...
“Monroe’s Mystery”
It was late afternoon when barn scouts Marge and Gary drove me by this barn, sitting far away from the road and on the side of a hill. In the distance, the barn seemed to have a center portion of large horizontal beams, which caught my attention. Most Ohio barns have vertical siding; barns in western states are more likely to have the horizontal orientation. Intrigued and suspicious, I asked Gary if we could return the next morning – since there was plenty of time before my event in the famous Kindelberger barn.
Thankfully, the weather cooperated, giving us another crisp October day, one that’s perfect for inspecting old barns. Gary said that a friend of his, Ron Winkler, owns it and that he’d surely agree to let me take a look. However, that wasn’t as easy as it sounds since knee-high weeds surrounded the barn and, hidden beneath them, large sandstone blocks, liberally sprinkled throughout the hillside, lied there quietly, ready to twist an ankle. I stepped carefully.
When I finally made it to the barn – Gary sat in the car, a good decision – and looked inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was, a little log barn, about 15 feet wide and 24 feet deep. Those horizontal beams (that we saw from a distance) were the footprint of the barn, which was enclosed by two lean-tos, added probably in the early 1900s. Its dry rubble stone foundation must have been laid on solid bedrock since it shows no cracking or shifting in its old age, probably well over 200 years. In fact, this little barn may date to the early 1800s or even to the 1790s, making it possibly one of Monroe County’s oldest buildings. Nearby Washington County was established in 1788.
Near the add-on on the lefthand side are many large cut sandstone blocks, presumably added for a foundation for this lean-to. Intermingled with the blocks, pieces of gray slate are likely remnants of the roof, which must have replaced the original wood shakes – sometime in the late 1800s. However, a metal roof now covers the slate and has preserved the historic structure surprisingly well.
The add-on on the barn’s right side is interesting since the beams are notched together – like the small log footprint inside – yet they’ve been cut with a circular saw, indicating that this part was made after the Civil War era. That poses the question: Why would someone build an add-on with beams notched?
And, here’s another question. Why would a farmer build a barn into the side of a steep hill, where a mudslide would threaten the foundation, which is what happened to the collapsed lefthand side? One guess is that this was a small farm – with crops in the flat land below the barn and a few cows or horses. The three levels hint that the animals were housed on the lowest level, threshing was done on the second, and hay was stored on top. An electric fence nearby and wiring inside the barn mean that the barn was still in use – perhaps several decades ago.
For now, this little log barn, which may date to years before Monroe County was formed, (which happened in 1813 when it was created from portions of Belmont, Guernsey and Washington counties) will keep its stories inside its white oak walls – a reminder of Ohio pioneer days and just one more of Monroe County’s mysteries.
It was late afternoon when barn scouts Marge and Gary drove me by this barn, sitting far away from the road and on the side of a hill. In the distance, the barn seemed to have a center portion of large horizontal beams, which caught my attention. Most Ohio barns have vertical siding; barns in western states are more likely to have the horizontal orientation. Intrigued and suspicious, I asked Gary if we could return the next morning – since there was plenty of time before my event in the famous Kindelberger barn.
Thankfully, the weather cooperated, giving us another crisp October day, one that’s perfect for inspecting old barns. Gary said that a friend of his, Ron Winkler, owns it and that he’d surely agree to let me take a look. However, that wasn’t as easy as it sounds since knee-high weeds surrounded the barn and, hidden beneath them, large sandstone blocks, liberally sprinkled throughout the hillside, lied there quietly, ready to twist an ankle. I stepped carefully.
When I finally made it to the barn – Gary sat in the car, a good decision – and looked inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was, a little log barn, about 15 feet wide and 24 feet deep. Those horizontal beams (that we saw from a distance) were the footprint of the barn, which was enclosed by two lean-tos, added probably in the early 1900s. Its dry rubble stone foundation must have been laid on solid bedrock since it shows no cracking or shifting in its old age, probably well over 200 years. In fact, this little barn may date to the early 1800s or even to the 1790s, making it possibly one of Monroe County’s oldest buildings. Nearby Washington County was established in 1788.
Near the add-on on the lefthand side are many large cut sandstone blocks, presumably added for a foundation for this lean-to. Intermingled with the blocks, pieces of gray slate are likely remnants of the roof, which must have replaced the original wood shakes – sometime in the late 1800s. However, a metal roof now covers the slate and has preserved the historic structure surprisingly well.
The add-on on the barn’s right side is interesting since the beams are notched together – like the small log footprint inside – yet they’ve been cut with a circular saw, indicating that this part was made after the Civil War era. That poses the question: Why would someone build an add-on with beams notched?
And, here’s another question. Why would a farmer build a barn into the side of a steep hill, where a mudslide would threaten the foundation, which is what happened to the collapsed lefthand side? One guess is that this was a small farm – with crops in the flat land below the barn and a few cows or horses. The three levels hint that the animals were housed on the lowest level, threshing was done on the second, and hay was stored on top. An electric fence nearby and wiring inside the barn mean that the barn was still in use – perhaps several decades ago.
For now, this little log barn, which may date to years before Monroe County was formed, (which happened in 1813 when it was created from portions of Belmont, Guernsey and Washington counties) will keep its stories inside its white oak walls – a reminder of Ohio pioneer days and just one more of Monroe County’s mysteries.
Same barn from a different angle - with some berries vying for attention, trying to steal the show. But, sorry, with such a historic structure, not a chance ...
“Larry’s Lair”
There aren’t many straight or flat roads in Monroe County and the location of this barn is hardly an exception to that rule. Before the gas and oil companies came to this region over 10 years ago, a single lane dirt road led up to this barn. Now it’s paved and wide enough for a semi-trailers, which travel up and down it several times a day.
Though we didn’t get a chance to go inside the barn, it’s obvious that the farmer who built it didn’t have any fear of heights – since he chose an extremely steep hill, an ideal spot for a bank barn. Just don’t slip.
The barn appears to have been built around 1900 and the farm may have been primarily a dairy operation – as the small milk house next to the vine-covered silo suggests. These days owner Larry Baumberger, barn scout Gary’s son, raises 30 head of beef cattle.
The farmstead traces to the early 1800s, evidenced by a nearby log cabin, which has since been enclosed in a traditional wooden farmhouse. Chances are there were other barns on the farm, eventually having been replaced with this one. Barn scout Marge grew up here when her dad owned it. Later, he sold it to her brother and, in 2006, Larry, Marge’s son-in-law, purchased the farm. He hired Amish workers to put new siding on it. They replaced slate with a metal roof, assuring many more years of function. For now, it allows Larry to raise cattle, which is enough for a century-old barn.
There aren’t many straight or flat roads in Monroe County and the location of this barn is hardly an exception to that rule. Before the gas and oil companies came to this region over 10 years ago, a single lane dirt road led up to this barn. Now it’s paved and wide enough for a semi-trailers, which travel up and down it several times a day.
Though we didn’t get a chance to go inside the barn, it’s obvious that the farmer who built it didn’t have any fear of heights – since he chose an extremely steep hill, an ideal spot for a bank barn. Just don’t slip.
The barn appears to have been built around 1900 and the farm may have been primarily a dairy operation – as the small milk house next to the vine-covered silo suggests. These days owner Larry Baumberger, barn scout Gary’s son, raises 30 head of beef cattle.
The farmstead traces to the early 1800s, evidenced by a nearby log cabin, which has since been enclosed in a traditional wooden farmhouse. Chances are there were other barns on the farm, eventually having been replaced with this one. Barn scout Marge grew up here when her dad owned it. Later, he sold it to her brother and, in 2006, Larry, Marge’s son-in-law, purchased the farm. He hired Amish workers to put new siding on it. They replaced slate with a metal roof, assuring many more years of function. For now, it allows Larry to raise cattle, which is enough for a century-old barn.
“Lonely Lewisville”
A yellow metallic sign – labeled in black print “Lewisville Hardware” – hangs from under the eave of this barn, advertising “Red Rose Animal Feeds.” Underneath that script, in smaller faded blue lettering is written “John W. Eshelman and Sons, Established 1842.” However, Eshelman never owned this barn-hardware store. The Eshelmans moved from Switzerland in 1732 to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and, in 1842, John began selling grist mill products.
In 1921, the Eshelmans built second mill in York, Pennsylvania and chose the name “Red Rose Feeds” for their products, a tribute to Lancashire, England, and the 15th-century Wars of the Roses, civil wars in medieval England. The house of Lancaster chose the red rose and the house of York chose white. In 1974 the Eshelman family sold the business and retired the name, though a grandson Henry, a history buff, no doubt, sells nostalgic t-shirts and hats with the Red Rose Eshelman logo – embossed with original designs, such as Red Rose pig starter pellets, laying mash, dog puppy food, and chick starter.
Lewisville is a small town, population of 176 in the 2010 census, which is almost 60 fewer souls than the 2010 census reported. However, according to a report in the September, 1890, issue of The Monroe Gazette, the village was a busy place, full of “some very fine and nicely laying farms.” It also listed occupations: two blacksmith shops, two tobacco packing houses, one furniture maker, one shoe shop, two hotels, two saloons, three general stores, one Odd Fellows lodge, two carpenter shops, a roller flouring mill, a post office, a schoolhouse, railroad depot, telegraph office, one hardware store, and two undertakers. It’s hard to believe that a population of 120 (in 1880) would be able to keep two undertakers busy. However, the shoe repair man had a monopoly, and the reporter wrote that “the fact that he has no opposition is sufficient evidence that he is thorough in his profession.”
The hardware-barn is a different matter. Farmers from the surrounding region, who didn’t want to travel seven miles or longer (horseback or wagon in those years) to the more populated county seat of Woodfield, might solve their hardware problems in Lewisville. According to the article, L.E. Stegner and Rhinehart Rice owned the store and “also deal in grain drills, farm implements, threshing machines, saw mills and do many other honorable things to make money.” Apparently, these two proprietors as well as furniture maker F.A. Ullrich, also were undertakers on the side.
Though barn scouts Marge and Gary and I didn’t get a chance to look inside the barn, it appears to have been built in the late 1800s or perhaps earlier. Near the locked door, a flyer was posted on the wall – “K&L Home and Barn, Paying Cash for Old Barns.” A phone call to the number on the flyer went unanswered. Perhaps the fellow has purchased this barn for its lumber, though most of the siding has warped badly. Although the owners may have repaired the foundation at one time, in an effort to preserve it, age is catching up with it as vines begin to creep up the rear siding. However, its metal roof appears intact, a major key to a barn’s longevity.
Regardless, Lewisville is trying to stay alive: a few yards across the road, another ancient business is still open. Its bright red sign, “The General Store, circa 1890, Lewisville,” is hard to miss and shows that the owners have a sense of pride in keeping this original store going. Even though the rolling flour mill of the 1890s, owned and operated by Oblinger, Spiry, and Company, “is a grand affair and is perhaps doing more to build up Lewisville than any other enterprise in the town,” Lewisville will need more to revitalize it … before taking its last breath – as this old barn is about to do. No question, Lewisville is getting to be a pretty lonely place.
A yellow metallic sign – labeled in black print “Lewisville Hardware” – hangs from under the eave of this barn, advertising “Red Rose Animal Feeds.” Underneath that script, in smaller faded blue lettering is written “John W. Eshelman and Sons, Established 1842.” However, Eshelman never owned this barn-hardware store. The Eshelmans moved from Switzerland in 1732 to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and, in 1842, John began selling grist mill products.
In 1921, the Eshelmans built second mill in York, Pennsylvania and chose the name “Red Rose Feeds” for their products, a tribute to Lancashire, England, and the 15th-century Wars of the Roses, civil wars in medieval England. The house of Lancaster chose the red rose and the house of York chose white. In 1974 the Eshelman family sold the business and retired the name, though a grandson Henry, a history buff, no doubt, sells nostalgic t-shirts and hats with the Red Rose Eshelman logo – embossed with original designs, such as Red Rose pig starter pellets, laying mash, dog puppy food, and chick starter.
Lewisville is a small town, population of 176 in the 2010 census, which is almost 60 fewer souls than the 2010 census reported. However, according to a report in the September, 1890, issue of The Monroe Gazette, the village was a busy place, full of “some very fine and nicely laying farms.” It also listed occupations: two blacksmith shops, two tobacco packing houses, one furniture maker, one shoe shop, two hotels, two saloons, three general stores, one Odd Fellows lodge, two carpenter shops, a roller flouring mill, a post office, a schoolhouse, railroad depot, telegraph office, one hardware store, and two undertakers. It’s hard to believe that a population of 120 (in 1880) would be able to keep two undertakers busy. However, the shoe repair man had a monopoly, and the reporter wrote that “the fact that he has no opposition is sufficient evidence that he is thorough in his profession.”
The hardware-barn is a different matter. Farmers from the surrounding region, who didn’t want to travel seven miles or longer (horseback or wagon in those years) to the more populated county seat of Woodfield, might solve their hardware problems in Lewisville. According to the article, L.E. Stegner and Rhinehart Rice owned the store and “also deal in grain drills, farm implements, threshing machines, saw mills and do many other honorable things to make money.” Apparently, these two proprietors as well as furniture maker F.A. Ullrich, also were undertakers on the side.
Though barn scouts Marge and Gary and I didn’t get a chance to look inside the barn, it appears to have been built in the late 1800s or perhaps earlier. Near the locked door, a flyer was posted on the wall – “K&L Home and Barn, Paying Cash for Old Barns.” A phone call to the number on the flyer went unanswered. Perhaps the fellow has purchased this barn for its lumber, though most of the siding has warped badly. Although the owners may have repaired the foundation at one time, in an effort to preserve it, age is catching up with it as vines begin to creep up the rear siding. However, its metal roof appears intact, a major key to a barn’s longevity.
Regardless, Lewisville is trying to stay alive: a few yards across the road, another ancient business is still open. Its bright red sign, “The General Store, circa 1890, Lewisville,” is hard to miss and shows that the owners have a sense of pride in keeping this original store going. Even though the rolling flour mill of the 1890s, owned and operated by Oblinger, Spiry, and Company, “is a grand affair and is perhaps doing more to build up Lewisville than any other enterprise in the town,” Lewisville will need more to revitalize it … before taking its last breath – as this old barn is about to do. No question, Lewisville is getting to be a pretty lonely place.
“Calvert’s Challenge”
Thanks to barn scout Marge prompting a newspaper article about my barn touring visit, 92-year-old William Calvert let us inspect his barn and provided some history on it. Born in 1929, William grew up during the ominous days of the Great Depression and helped his parents, George and Lillie Calvert, work this little farm, raising hogs, chickens, and 21 dairy cows. I didn’t ask him if he had to milk the cows twice a day but I’d guess he milked his share. After his dad died in 1978, William took over the farm.
His parents bought the farm in 1930 from Tom Burkhart, though he wasn’t the original farmer. That was the Swallie family, who not only built this true bank barn but painted its date, 1917, still visible on interior siding. Inside, plank construction confirms the date of 1917 and the tremendous amount of stored hay shows that the century-old barn still has a purpose. In fact, the historical society liked the barn so much – especially since it’s highly visible from a main road – that they paid to have a large white wooden sign painted with, “Monroe County Bicentennial, 1815-2015.” It stands in front of the threshing door, which I opted to include – rather than this sign.
William also brought up a piece that he read about in Cleveland’s Plain Dealer, A Tale of Two Economies: Mercer, Monroe Counties’ Success and Struggle Offer Lessons for Ohio. Published in 2018, the article collaborated with Your Voice Ohio, a media collaborative effort by news organizations, headquartered in Akron. Barn scouts Marge and Gary told me that they had also read this article and, like William, felt it painted a dismal image of their county. After reading it, I had to agree.
Mercer County, far on Ohio’s western flank, lies on flat fertile farmland, whereas Monroe County, nicknamed the Switzerland of Ohio, is, geologically, the polar opposite of Mercer’s land. It typifies southeastern Ohio’s Appalachian region – where a flat tract of land is the exception, rather than the rule. In Mercer County, you can drive on Route 127, going straight through the entire county without either veering five degrees off course and almost never seeing a hill. Farming flat land is much different than trying to raise crops on wooded hillsides, especially the steep ones in Monroe County. It’s hard to imagine how the original pioneers farmed this land in the late 1790s and early 1800s, but they did and they still do, though their agricultural production is far less than that of Mercer County. A comparison isn’t fair unless it’s apples to apples.
The article looks at the declines in manufacturing jobs in several Ohio’s counties and praises Mercer County for diversifying its factory jobs. On the other hand, it shows that Monroe County failed to add such jobs after two calamities: the closing of its aluminum plants and the collapse of the coal industry. But, Monroe County has its advantages: it’s mostly unspoiled. From an artist’s perspective, its twisty roads offer breathtaking vistas of its Americana-like scenes. Almost every turn in the road provides a new, captivating scene, and the autumn colors could fill any palette, courtesy of Mother Nature’s hardwood trees. In today’s technological society, stepping back in time to such beauty can be a welcome relief, which Monroe County can provide.
Barn scouts Marge and Gary, owners of the famous Kindelberger stone barn, long ago listed on the National Register, have built an inviting rental cabin, a short stone’s throw from their barn, which they hope will promote tourism in the county, a challenge to be sure but one that can be overcome.
Thanks to barn scout Marge prompting a newspaper article about my barn touring visit, 92-year-old William Calvert let us inspect his barn and provided some history on it. Born in 1929, William grew up during the ominous days of the Great Depression and helped his parents, George and Lillie Calvert, work this little farm, raising hogs, chickens, and 21 dairy cows. I didn’t ask him if he had to milk the cows twice a day but I’d guess he milked his share. After his dad died in 1978, William took over the farm.
His parents bought the farm in 1930 from Tom Burkhart, though he wasn’t the original farmer. That was the Swallie family, who not only built this true bank barn but painted its date, 1917, still visible on interior siding. Inside, plank construction confirms the date of 1917 and the tremendous amount of stored hay shows that the century-old barn still has a purpose. In fact, the historical society liked the barn so much – especially since it’s highly visible from a main road – that they paid to have a large white wooden sign painted with, “Monroe County Bicentennial, 1815-2015.” It stands in front of the threshing door, which I opted to include – rather than this sign.
William also brought up a piece that he read about in Cleveland’s Plain Dealer, A Tale of Two Economies: Mercer, Monroe Counties’ Success and Struggle Offer Lessons for Ohio. Published in 2018, the article collaborated with Your Voice Ohio, a media collaborative effort by news organizations, headquartered in Akron. Barn scouts Marge and Gary told me that they had also read this article and, like William, felt it painted a dismal image of their county. After reading it, I had to agree.
Mercer County, far on Ohio’s western flank, lies on flat fertile farmland, whereas Monroe County, nicknamed the Switzerland of Ohio, is, geologically, the polar opposite of Mercer’s land. It typifies southeastern Ohio’s Appalachian region – where a flat tract of land is the exception, rather than the rule. In Mercer County, you can drive on Route 127, going straight through the entire county without either veering five degrees off course and almost never seeing a hill. Farming flat land is much different than trying to raise crops on wooded hillsides, especially the steep ones in Monroe County. It’s hard to imagine how the original pioneers farmed this land in the late 1790s and early 1800s, but they did and they still do, though their agricultural production is far less than that of Mercer County. A comparison isn’t fair unless it’s apples to apples.
The article looks at the declines in manufacturing jobs in several Ohio’s counties and praises Mercer County for diversifying its factory jobs. On the other hand, it shows that Monroe County failed to add such jobs after two calamities: the closing of its aluminum plants and the collapse of the coal industry. But, Monroe County has its advantages: it’s mostly unspoiled. From an artist’s perspective, its twisty roads offer breathtaking vistas of its Americana-like scenes. Almost every turn in the road provides a new, captivating scene, and the autumn colors could fill any palette, courtesy of Mother Nature’s hardwood trees. In today’s technological society, stepping back in time to such beauty can be a welcome relief, which Monroe County can provide.
Barn scouts Marge and Gary, owners of the famous Kindelberger stone barn, long ago listed on the National Register, have built an inviting rental cabin, a short stone’s throw from their barn, which they hope will promote tourism in the county, a challenge to be sure but one that can be overcome.
“Stauffer’s Pride”
According to barn scouts Marge and Gary Baumberger, Arnold Stauffer was the founder of this farm and most likely built this barn, which appears to be from the 1850-1870 era. The builder, probably Swiss or German, knew his trade in choosing a natural bank, providing three levels for the livestock, threshing, and hay. The forebay juts out from the bank and towards a hill, full of hardwoods, and its sides lie on dry laid stones, a marvelous example of expert stonemasonry.
Oddly, on the rear of the barn the farmer placed a wall, about three feet high, from one end to the other – across from the livestock stalls and extending to the edge of the forebay. Unlike the small stones on the sides, these are large cut sandstone blocks, each weighing hundreds of pounds. The farmer may have wanted to prevent mudslides, especially if one of his cows had slid down the bank.
Inside, the hand-hewn beams look ancient and some exhibit unusual chamfering. Chances are that the original roof had wood shakes, which may have been replaced by slate – as many were in Monroe County at the turn of the century. Today a weathered metal roof keeps the water out – and away from the valuable beams, which may be repurposed. Ron Winkler, school board trustee, owns this barn, though my barn scouts told me that he planned to take the barn down within a week of my visit in October, 2021. Regardless, it’s memory lives on in this painting and essay, a tribute to the stonemason’s skill and to Arnold Stauffer, the founding father of this farmstead.
According to barn scouts Marge and Gary Baumberger, Arnold Stauffer was the founder of this farm and most likely built this barn, which appears to be from the 1850-1870 era. The builder, probably Swiss or German, knew his trade in choosing a natural bank, providing three levels for the livestock, threshing, and hay. The forebay juts out from the bank and towards a hill, full of hardwoods, and its sides lie on dry laid stones, a marvelous example of expert stonemasonry.
Oddly, on the rear of the barn the farmer placed a wall, about three feet high, from one end to the other – across from the livestock stalls and extending to the edge of the forebay. Unlike the small stones on the sides, these are large cut sandstone blocks, each weighing hundreds of pounds. The farmer may have wanted to prevent mudslides, especially if one of his cows had slid down the bank.
Inside, the hand-hewn beams look ancient and some exhibit unusual chamfering. Chances are that the original roof had wood shakes, which may have been replaced by slate – as many were in Monroe County at the turn of the century. Today a weathered metal roof keeps the water out – and away from the valuable beams, which may be repurposed. Ron Winkler, school board trustee, owns this barn, though my barn scouts told me that he planned to take the barn down within a week of my visit in October, 2021. Regardless, it’s memory lives on in this painting and essay, a tribute to the stonemason’s skill and to Arnold Stauffer, the founding father of this farmstead.
“Fracking”
As barn scouts Marge and Gary took me past a large industrial site, they told me that this field was now owned by one of the energy companies in Monroe County. Within 50 yards of this old barn were piles of dozens of huge pipes, which the companies use during the fracking process. But the barn sat alone, most likely abandoned but still protected by three lightning rods – with glass globes intact. The metal roof hinted that the barn had been used within the past two or three decades and a mostly hidden hayhood suggested that the farmer had likely stored hay in the mow and may have kept some livestock in the barn, as well. Its gray weathered siding appeared to be in good shape – with only a few boards warped and missing.
However, nature has begun reclaiming this old fellow. Weeds and goldenrod have encircled it and a scrawny tree (which I eliminated in the painting) has grown up the front. In thinking about it, I imagined that years ago there was probably a dirt or gravel road leading up and around the barn, though today the weeds have taken over. Though environmentalists decry fracking, it does provide income to residents here but, in one case, it meant sacrificing this old barn. Nonetheless, the barn remains remembered in this painting, symbolizing the past, a time when a farmer built it on this steep hillside, determined to succeed. Bye, bye, little barn.
As barn scouts Marge and Gary took me past a large industrial site, they told me that this field was now owned by one of the energy companies in Monroe County. Within 50 yards of this old barn were piles of dozens of huge pipes, which the companies use during the fracking process. But the barn sat alone, most likely abandoned but still protected by three lightning rods – with glass globes intact. The metal roof hinted that the barn had been used within the past two or three decades and a mostly hidden hayhood suggested that the farmer had likely stored hay in the mow and may have kept some livestock in the barn, as well. Its gray weathered siding appeared to be in good shape – with only a few boards warped and missing.
However, nature has begun reclaiming this old fellow. Weeds and goldenrod have encircled it and a scrawny tree (which I eliminated in the painting) has grown up the front. In thinking about it, I imagined that years ago there was probably a dirt or gravel road leading up and around the barn, though today the weeds have taken over. Though environmentalists decry fracking, it does provide income to residents here but, in one case, it meant sacrificing this old barn. Nonetheless, the barn remains remembered in this painting, symbolizing the past, a time when a farmer built it on this steep hillside, determined to succeed. Bye, bye, little barn.
MONTGOMERY
“The Medic”
I missed seeing the small Christmas Tree farm sign on Route 35 – west of Dayton – and sped by it, turned around, and apparently pulled back onto the road too slowly as an angry car horn announced. As I entered, the farm looked like a scene from the Barn Builders show, a popular series on the DIY network: a tall red crane was lifting a long hand-hewn-timber beam, positioning it, while several workers were drilling, cutting, and shaping other lumber. The Renchs, Laura and David, had hired a timber framer to restore an 1816 barn from across the street. Noble souls. Historical preservationists, just like me.
They also own another early 19th century barn, which they used as an office for the Christmas tree farm they used to operate. And a third “newer” one, built in 1903, serves as storage, a good place for old barn wood, allowing me to choose and pick for framing this 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.
I missed seeing the small Christmas Tree farm sign on Route 35 – west of Dayton – and sped by it, turned around, and apparently pulled back onto the road too slowly as an angry car horn announced. As I entered, the farm looked like a scene from the Barn Builders show, a popular series on the DIY network: a tall red crane was lifting a long hand-hewn-timber beam, positioning it, while several workers were drilling, cutting, and shaping other lumber. The Renchs, Laura and David, had hired a timber framer to restore an 1816 barn from across the street. Noble souls. Historical preservationists, just like me.
They also own another early 19th century barn, which they used as an office for the Christmas tree farm they used to operate. And a third “newer” one, built in 1903, serves as storage, a good place for old barn wood, allowing me to choose and pick for framing this 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.
MORGAN
“The Snake Killer”
Driving through Morgan County, a good sampling of Ohio’s Appalachia, was the most adventurous expedition I had taken, topping even the supremely hilly Monroe County. County Road 91, a dirt and gravel road, barely wide enough for two cars, full of hairpin turns, steep drop offs, and woods mimicking a national forest, stretched for three miles. Fortunately, no other cars challenged me on this early morning in September.
But the arduous journey was worth it: the Farnsworth barn was a gem. After going down Richardson Lane, a private drive named after the family, and then up a steep hill, making me wonder how anyone could farm here, I arrived at the 1836-built farmhouse, where I met Claire Richardson Farnsworth, her daughter Grace, and her son-in-law Jim Gregg. After a chat, we drove down the hill and then up another one to look at the 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.
Driving through Morgan County, a good sampling of Ohio’s Appalachia, was the most adventurous expedition I had taken, topping even the supremely hilly Monroe County. County Road 91, a dirt and gravel road, barely wide enough for two cars, full of hairpin turns, steep drop offs, and woods mimicking a national forest, stretched for three miles. Fortunately, no other cars challenged me on this early morning in September.
But the arduous journey was worth it: the Farnsworth barn was a gem. After going down Richardson Lane, a private drive named after the family, and then up a steep hill, making me wonder how anyone could farm here, I arrived at the 1836-built farmhouse, where I met Claire Richardson Farnsworth, her daughter Grace, and her son-in-law Jim Gregg. After a chat, we drove down the hill and then up another one to look at the 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.
MORROW
"Hole-in-the-Wall Gang"
The Hole in the Wall is a remote pass in the Big Horn Mountains in Johnson County, Wyoming, where a group of cattle rustlers, known as the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang would hide. In the late 19th century this gang and Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch stayed here at a log cabin, built in 1883, which is now preserved at the Old Trail Town museum in Cody, Wyoming. Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, remembered in the movie starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford, eluded lawmen for years in this hideout, which was used by many outlaws from the 1860s to 1910, when it faded away into history.
Actor Paul Newman, an Ohio native, founded a summer camp for children with serious illnesses in Connecticut in 1987. He called it the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp, which quickly grew into an organization called the Serious Fun Children’s Network, individually financed and operated camps, which have served hundreds of thousands of children worldwide. Newman believed that children facing such terrible diseases should have a “hideout,” which his camp provided.
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 Hole in the Wall is a remote pass in the Big Horn Mountains in Johnson County, Wyoming, where a group of cattle rustlers, known as the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang would hide. In the late 19th century this gang and Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch stayed here at a log cabin, built in 1883, which is now preserved at the Old Trail Town museum in Cody, Wyoming. Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, remembered in the movie starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford, eluded lawmen for years in this hideout, which was used by many outlaws from the 1860s to 1910, when it faded away into history.
Actor Paul Newman, an Ohio native, founded a summer camp for children with serious illnesses in Connecticut in 1987. He called it the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp, which quickly grew into an organization called the Serious Fun Children’s Network, individually financed and operated camps, which have served hundreds of thousands of children worldwide. Newman believed that children facing such terrible diseases should have a “hideout,” which his camp provided.
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.
MUSKINGUM
“Pristine”
Dawn was beginning to break, its early morning glow casting shadows and highlighting hay bales in the field, as I approached this old barn, which sits on a ridge overlooking acres the McDonald farm. Even though I had spent most of the previous day in a whirlwind tour of Ohio’s eastern counties – an adventurous drive through a curvy slice of the Appalachian Plateau – I felt refreshed after a night of sleep in a Zanesville hotel. I was ready for more barns – this one and the famous three round barns of neighboring Perry County. The chamber of commerce kindly referred me to Susan McDonald, a local attorney and farmer, whose family roots trace back to 1858 when Samuel Culbertson established the farm, along with a store and a post office. During the Civil War, according to the family, Confederate General John Hunt Morgan passed by here on his raid into Ohio, though this time he paid for provisions – after noticing a Free Mason sign on the property. Shades of one of my favorite movies, A Man Who Would Be King.
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.
Dawn was beginning to break, its early morning glow casting shadows and highlighting hay bales in the field, as I approached this old barn, which sits on a ridge overlooking acres the McDonald farm. Even though I had spent most of the previous day in a whirlwind tour of Ohio’s eastern counties – an adventurous drive through a curvy slice of the Appalachian Plateau – I felt refreshed after a night of sleep in a Zanesville hotel. I was ready for more barns – this one and the famous three round barns of neighboring Perry County. The chamber of commerce kindly referred me to Susan McDonald, a local attorney and farmer, whose family roots trace back to 1858 when Samuel Culbertson established the farm, along with a store and a post office. During the Civil War, according to the family, Confederate General John Hunt Morgan passed by here on his raid into Ohio, though this time he paid for provisions – after noticing a Free Mason sign on the property. Shades of one of my favorite movies, A Man Who Would Be King.
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.
NOBLE
“Junior and the Nuns”
On my September, 2018, tour of Ohio’s eastern counties I hoped to find a barn in the little section of Noble County I’d be going through and, since the historical society didn’t respond to my query, I’d have to find it on my own. Fortunately I found one, a nice blue barn just off Route 78. And the bonus was that Leianne, my Summit County historical guru who grew up in this county, knew about it.
The road sign, which I opted to leave out of the painting, read “Woodfield Rd.” and “Zwick Rd.,” the latter leading towards the barn and farmhouse. Leianne told me that the farm was owned for a long time by “Junior” and his wife and that the Zwick family still owns it.
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 my September, 2018, tour of Ohio’s eastern counties I hoped to find a barn in the little section of Noble County I’d be going through and, since the historical society didn’t respond to my query, I’d have to find it on my own. Fortunately I found one, a nice blue barn just off Route 78. And the bonus was that Leianne, my Summit County historical guru who grew up in this county, knew about it.
The road sign, which I opted to leave out of the painting, read “Woodfield Rd.” and “Zwick Rd.,” the latter leading towards the barn and farmhouse. Leianne told me that the farm was owned for a long time by “Junior” and his wife and that the Zwick family still owns it.
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 Noble Surprise”
Every now and then, something totally unexpected happens during a barn tour. Taking notes from the last barn we visited, I wasn’t paying attention as barn scout Jeff drove his vintage Chevrolet, manufactured during the Great Depression, sputtering down a twisting gravel road. He said calmly, “Bob, it would be interesting if my car died right – since we probably don’t have cell phone service here. This is pretty remote.” I had to agree. Just then he stopped – on purpose, though.
Across from us sat a small gray barn, not much to look at – obviously in poor condition and getting worse day by day. The roof of the add-on on its left side had completely collapsed. The ancient metal corn crib – with a ladder reaching the top – had rusted. One of the barn doors had fallen off and two more were barely hanging on to their hinges. It was a mess.
But then came the surprise. As we glanced inside, there, standing securely, was an original log barn, about 20 by 20 feet, its logs still intact, 11 beams high in a square. One beam, near where the floor had been, had a series of mortise cuts, where beams used to connect with tenons and wooden pegs. Though the floor was missing, showing the lower level, where a few animals might have been housed, the structure was remarkably sound. However, there was no chinking, which is the process of closing the gaps between the logs, first by an assortment of fillers – corn cobs, manure, straw – and then an application of mud or cement for the outer layer. The corner notches were basic, nothing elaborate – simply V-shaped edges that allowed the logs to sit on one another – sort of like the Roman aqueducts, built with stone blocks without cement, still standing after 2,000 years.
Over the years, the farmer needed more room, which led to his adding to both sides of the log barn. Ironically these newer additions are deteriorating, while the original logs are still in great shape. Someone added a metal roof, which is why these beams have not rotted. Of course, they might be white oak, which is tough as steel and insect resistant. No signs of bugs anywhere on these logs.
This an extremely rare Ohio barn and may be the oldest building in Noble County and, as such, deserves to be preserved. Yes, there are many log cabins still preserved in the state, but very few log barns. In fact, it may date to earlier than 1810, though dendrochronology could accurately pin point the year that the logs were harvested. Thanks to Jeff and his taking me along the back roads, this gem has been discovered, a wonderful surprise in Noble County. Now, will it be preserved?
Every now and then, something totally unexpected happens during a barn tour. Taking notes from the last barn we visited, I wasn’t paying attention as barn scout Jeff drove his vintage Chevrolet, manufactured during the Great Depression, sputtering down a twisting gravel road. He said calmly, “Bob, it would be interesting if my car died right – since we probably don’t have cell phone service here. This is pretty remote.” I had to agree. Just then he stopped – on purpose, though.
Across from us sat a small gray barn, not much to look at – obviously in poor condition and getting worse day by day. The roof of the add-on on its left side had completely collapsed. The ancient metal corn crib – with a ladder reaching the top – had rusted. One of the barn doors had fallen off and two more were barely hanging on to their hinges. It was a mess.
But then came the surprise. As we glanced inside, there, standing securely, was an original log barn, about 20 by 20 feet, its logs still intact, 11 beams high in a square. One beam, near where the floor had been, had a series of mortise cuts, where beams used to connect with tenons and wooden pegs. Though the floor was missing, showing the lower level, where a few animals might have been housed, the structure was remarkably sound. However, there was no chinking, which is the process of closing the gaps between the logs, first by an assortment of fillers – corn cobs, manure, straw – and then an application of mud or cement for the outer layer. The corner notches were basic, nothing elaborate – simply V-shaped edges that allowed the logs to sit on one another – sort of like the Roman aqueducts, built with stone blocks without cement, still standing after 2,000 years.
Over the years, the farmer needed more room, which led to his adding to both sides of the log barn. Ironically these newer additions are deteriorating, while the original logs are still in great shape. Someone added a metal roof, which is why these beams have not rotted. Of course, they might be white oak, which is tough as steel and insect resistant. No signs of bugs anywhere on these logs.
This an extremely rare Ohio barn and may be the oldest building in Noble County and, as such, deserves to be preserved. Yes, there are many log cabins still preserved in the state, but very few log barns. In fact, it may date to earlier than 1810, though dendrochronology could accurately pin point the year that the logs were harvested. Thanks to Jeff and his taking me along the back roads, this gem has been discovered, a wonderful surprise in Noble County. Now, will it be preserved?
“True-Blue”
The dictionary defines true-blue as “unwavering in one’s commitment” or “extremely loyal” and it gives an example of “I'm a dyed-in-the-wool, true-blue patriot.” These words fit well with this tiny barn with its stars and stripes that Jeff and I passed while driving on back roads of Noble County on our tour in October, 2021. The barn wasn’t big – only about 20 by 30 feet – and may have been built in the 1800s but we didn’t have the opportunity to inspect it. Built into a fairly steep bank, it may have been part of a thriving farm at one time, though trees surround it now, seeming to be ready to completely camouflage it.
Regardless, the little barn had charm and the owner felt strongly enough to hang an American flag over its entrance, showing patriotism and fulfilling the meaning of true-blue.
The dictionary defines true-blue as “unwavering in one’s commitment” or “extremely loyal” and it gives an example of “I'm a dyed-in-the-wool, true-blue patriot.” These words fit well with this tiny barn with its stars and stripes that Jeff and I passed while driving on back roads of Noble County on our tour in October, 2021. The barn wasn’t big – only about 20 by 30 feet – and may have been built in the 1800s but we didn’t have the opportunity to inspect it. Built into a fairly steep bank, it may have been part of a thriving farm at one time, though trees surround it now, seeming to be ready to completely camouflage it.
Regardless, the little barn had charm and the owner felt strongly enough to hang an American flag over its entrance, showing patriotism and fulfilling the meaning of true-blue.
“Devol’s Dream”
Throughout our all-day tour, barn scout Jeff had been mentioning a barn on the side of a busy highway, one that I’d like. He was right.
Though we could see this tiny barn only from a distance, perched halfway up a steep hillside, it was certifiably an Ohio gem. A slate roof, still intact and apparently well cared for, displayed the date, 1888, and the builder’s name, L.H. Devol. Apparently, he was a prosperous farmer, wealthy enough to provide a bit of flair with his name and date on the roof. And, in those days, slate wasn’t cheap, either.
It would have been fun to go back in a time machine (Remember the Twilight Zone?) to 1888 and ask the farmer why he chose such a place for this tiny barn. Was he a sheep farmer? They do pretty well on hills, don’t they? Did he raise crops? Some questions will never be answered; yet the barn remains 130 years later, a tribute to Devol’s dream.
Throughout our all-day tour, barn scout Jeff had been mentioning a barn on the side of a busy highway, one that I’d like. He was right.
Though we could see this tiny barn only from a distance, perched halfway up a steep hillside, it was certifiably an Ohio gem. A slate roof, still intact and apparently well cared for, displayed the date, 1888, and the builder’s name, L.H. Devol. Apparently, he was a prosperous farmer, wealthy enough to provide a bit of flair with his name and date on the roof. And, in those days, slate wasn’t cheap, either.
It would have been fun to go back in a time machine (Remember the Twilight Zone?) to 1888 and ask the farmer why he chose such a place for this tiny barn. Was he a sheep farmer? They do pretty well on hills, don’t they? Did he raise crops? Some questions will never be answered; yet the barn remains 130 years later, a tribute to Devol’s dream.
“Coal Country”
This handsome barn was once owned by the Ogle family, who used it for dairy from the 1930s through the 1950s. A decade later, they had their own restaurant, using milk from their cows. Whoever built it certainly knew his business. The interior curved beams supporting the gothic roof show no damage and, aside from a few holes here and there, the rest of the barn looks fine. The red trim has faded in spots but still shows some flair that the family must have wanted to set this barn apart from the crowd. Its silo stands straight and tall, its unusual cap remains in good condition.
Inside, a basketball court hints that the family enjoyed the game and mountains of hay, stored on top of each other, prove that the barn still serves a function. When barn scout Jeff and I talked with the current owner, Carl Baker, Jr., he told us that he took it over in 1982 – from his dad, who bought it in 1974. His father, he said, had a coal mining operation. Today Carl keeps the company going, providing needed jobs, in spite of restrictive government regulations. He has four mines still operating. Indeed, this is coal county.
But it’s also country where the legendary Johnny Appleseed lived and planted his favorite trees. According to Jeff, some of his relatives are buried up the hill, a short distance from the road, where this granite plaque commemorates John Chapman’s life:
Born in Leominster, Massachusetts 1774
Died in Fort Wayne, Indiana 1845
Without a hope of recompense,
Without a thought of pride,
John Chapman planted apple trees.
And preached, and lived, and died.
Although the poet remains anonymous, he’s right: these are apple trees in coal country.
This handsome barn was once owned by the Ogle family, who used it for dairy from the 1930s through the 1950s. A decade later, they had their own restaurant, using milk from their cows. Whoever built it certainly knew his business. The interior curved beams supporting the gothic roof show no damage and, aside from a few holes here and there, the rest of the barn looks fine. The red trim has faded in spots but still shows some flair that the family must have wanted to set this barn apart from the crowd. Its silo stands straight and tall, its unusual cap remains in good condition.
Inside, a basketball court hints that the family enjoyed the game and mountains of hay, stored on top of each other, prove that the barn still serves a function. When barn scout Jeff and I talked with the current owner, Carl Baker, Jr., he told us that he took it over in 1982 – from his dad, who bought it in 1974. His father, he said, had a coal mining operation. Today Carl keeps the company going, providing needed jobs, in spite of restrictive government regulations. He has four mines still operating. Indeed, this is coal county.
But it’s also country where the legendary Johnny Appleseed lived and planted his favorite trees. According to Jeff, some of his relatives are buried up the hill, a short distance from the road, where this granite plaque commemorates John Chapman’s life:
Born in Leominster, Massachusetts 1774
Died in Fort Wayne, Indiana 1845
Without a hope of recompense,
Without a thought of pride,
John Chapman planted apple trees.
And preached, and lived, and died.
Although the poet remains anonymous, he’s right: these are apple trees in coal country.
“Harper’s Heaven”
This scene was classic: several large hay bales in the foreground, a gravel road bordered by fence posts leading up to the barn, and a background of colorful hardwood trees. Barn scout Jeff mentioned that J.D. Harper owned the barn and that his daughter Katrina was a star in the 4-H program. From its plank construction, the barn appeared to date to the early 1920s. It stores hay.
Jeff also explained that in the early 1980s, a gas pipeline exploded near this barn and caused considerable damage, burning cars and a house. Hopefully such a catastrophe won’t happen again: it would be a shame to ruin this little slice of heaven.
This scene was classic: several large hay bales in the foreground, a gravel road bordered by fence posts leading up to the barn, and a background of colorful hardwood trees. Barn scout Jeff mentioned that J.D. Harper owned the barn and that his daughter Katrina was a star in the 4-H program. From its plank construction, the barn appeared to date to the early 1920s. It stores hay.
Jeff also explained that in the early 1980s, a gas pipeline exploded near this barn and caused considerable damage, burning cars and a house. Hopefully such a catastrophe won’t happen again: it would be a shame to ruin this little slice of heaven.
“Dexter’s Delight”
Noble County’s Dexter City is not a city; it’s a village with a population of 129. Founded in 1870, the village takes its name from an early settler, Dexter W. Sullivan, who apparently was respected enough to have the village remember him this way.
This large barn sits on the main road, Route 821, which was likely a dirt road a long time ago, one where the farmer could load his crops or livestock onto wagons for market. Wisely, the founder built this barn directly into a natural hillside and used it most likely for livestock, suggested by its haymow door on the third level. According to barn scout Jeff, it was repurposed in the 1920s as an automobile shop. A large Firestone logo on the barn’s street side has faded badly but can still be seen on close examination. Jeff also said that, at one point, Dexter’s city hall was located inside the barn. Talk about the many uses of an old barn.
Jeff Sanford, a history buff, now owns the barn and stores lumber inside it, giving it yet another function. Some of its windows have been replaced, some of its siding has warped, and, overall, it shows its age, content to remain a weathered gray memorial to earlier days in this little village. Let’s hope it continues to delight barn lovers who pass by.
Noble County’s Dexter City is not a city; it’s a village with a population of 129. Founded in 1870, the village takes its name from an early settler, Dexter W. Sullivan, who apparently was respected enough to have the village remember him this way.
This large barn sits on the main road, Route 821, which was likely a dirt road a long time ago, one where the farmer could load his crops or livestock onto wagons for market. Wisely, the founder built this barn directly into a natural hillside and used it most likely for livestock, suggested by its haymow door on the third level. According to barn scout Jeff, it was repurposed in the 1920s as an automobile shop. A large Firestone logo on the barn’s street side has faded badly but can still be seen on close examination. Jeff also said that, at one point, Dexter’s city hall was located inside the barn. Talk about the many uses of an old barn.
Jeff Sanford, a history buff, now owns the barn and stores lumber inside it, giving it yet another function. Some of its windows have been replaced, some of its siding has warped, and, overall, it shows its age, content to remain a weathered gray memorial to earlier days in this little village. Let’s hope it continues to delight barn lovers who pass by.
“Noble County Cruzers”
Barn scout Jeff was anxious to show me this barn, mainly because it’s had an advertisement on it for decades: “Dodge Brothers Motor Cars – Dependable.” Beneath the logo, in fine print, is presumably the name of the auto dealer, Walter W. Wood. Jeff said that there’s a club, dedicated to preserving the history of these old cars, called the Dodge Brothers Club. Founded 1983 and incorporated in 1986, this group focuses on Dodge Brothers motor vehicles and Graham Brothers commercial vehicles, made from 1914 to1938.
The original logo, dating to the 1920s, had faded, prompting the Noble County Historical Society to commission Scott Hagen, the Ohio Bicentennial barn artist, to repaint it, which he did in 2020. Since then, the barn’s been featured in two national magazines. Since Scott’s canvas, the barn’s side, was much larger than my 11- by 14-inch panel, I decided to shorten the logo and leave out the fine print. Palette knife painting is not suited for lettering.
However, the real surprise came when we inspected the inside. Marriage marks! Plenty of them! These are Roman numerals, which indicate the scribe rule method of timber framing and which are seldom seen today. Most of these barns were built in the early 1800s and have not survived. Sometime, well before the Civil War, American ingenuity came up with an easier way to timber frame, using a carpenter’s square. This method, called the square rule technique, didn’t require marriage marks nor did it require pre-assembly. It was much faster, too.
The size is unusually large for a scribe rule barn – 33 by 40 feet – since most these early barns were much smaller. And the barn stands on solid footing – with hardly any shifting of the rubble and cut sandstone foundation.
Owned by Dave and Shari Williams, the barn has been well maintained and, even though its purpose seems to be mostly storage, its scribe rule construction and its logo are important reminders of Ohio’s past. And, with apologies to Jeff’s local car club, the Noble County Cruzers, and to the Dodge Brothers, I included Jeff’s vintage Chevrolet in the painting. I figured his car deserved recognition since it served for our transportation on our barn tour … and it didn’t break down. I’m sure the Cruzers won’t mind.
Barn scout Jeff was anxious to show me this barn, mainly because it’s had an advertisement on it for decades: “Dodge Brothers Motor Cars – Dependable.” Beneath the logo, in fine print, is presumably the name of the auto dealer, Walter W. Wood. Jeff said that there’s a club, dedicated to preserving the history of these old cars, called the Dodge Brothers Club. Founded 1983 and incorporated in 1986, this group focuses on Dodge Brothers motor vehicles and Graham Brothers commercial vehicles, made from 1914 to1938.
The original logo, dating to the 1920s, had faded, prompting the Noble County Historical Society to commission Scott Hagen, the Ohio Bicentennial barn artist, to repaint it, which he did in 2020. Since then, the barn’s been featured in two national magazines. Since Scott’s canvas, the barn’s side, was much larger than my 11- by 14-inch panel, I decided to shorten the logo and leave out the fine print. Palette knife painting is not suited for lettering.
However, the real surprise came when we inspected the inside. Marriage marks! Plenty of them! These are Roman numerals, which indicate the scribe rule method of timber framing and which are seldom seen today. Most of these barns were built in the early 1800s and have not survived. Sometime, well before the Civil War, American ingenuity came up with an easier way to timber frame, using a carpenter’s square. This method, called the square rule technique, didn’t require marriage marks nor did it require pre-assembly. It was much faster, too.
The size is unusually large for a scribe rule barn – 33 by 40 feet – since most these early barns were much smaller. And the barn stands on solid footing – with hardly any shifting of the rubble and cut sandstone foundation.
Owned by Dave and Shari Williams, the barn has been well maintained and, even though its purpose seems to be mostly storage, its scribe rule construction and its logo are important reminders of Ohio’s past. And, with apologies to Jeff’s local car club, the Noble County Cruzers, and to the Dodge Brothers, I included Jeff’s vintage Chevrolet in the painting. I figured his car deserved recognition since it served for our transportation on our barn tour … and it didn’t break down. I’m sure the Cruzers won’t mind.
“The Caldwell Story”
Robert Caldwell and his family, from Chester County, Pennsylvania, moved in 1795 to the Northwest Territory, which General Putman opened up when he founded Marietta in 1788. Along with many others from the crowded eastern seaboard, the Caldwells came here in hopes of finding fertile grounds and less crowded conditions.
They purchased land, cleared it, and began farming. In 1832, Robert’s son Samuel and his wife Sara built a large mansion, now called the Ball-Caldwell House, and continued to farm in what was Morgan County at the time. But, thanks to Joseph and Samuel Caldwell, who owned most of the land in present-day Caldwell, the state established Noble County in 1851, the last of Ohio’s 88 counties to be formed. Six years later, when the Caldwells agreed to donate land, the state set Caldwell as the county seat and named it after the family, in gratitude for their donation.
The mansion left the family, after nearly a century of ownership, when Edmund and Elizabeth Ball purchased it in 1920. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980 and three years later Robert and Mary Ann Ball took ownership and began restoring it, giving the house its present name. In 2009 the Noble County Historical Society purchased the entire farmstead – the home and this barn. Built in 1940 for hay storage, the barn now serves as an event center, including a fundraiser that I did for the society in the fall of 2021.
Built into a bank, with its entrance protected by a covered walkway, the barn sits on solid sandstone blocks, which have not shifted in over 80 years. That foundation, coupled with a strong metal roof, assures many more years of continued service.
Along with this legacy, Noble County reeks of history. In 1814 Silas Thorla and Robert McKee were drilling for salt when they accidentally found oil, making this the first oil well in America. However, they were mostly interested in salt, which they found, though they continued to sell the oil. Sometimes natural gas would cause the salt brine to erupt 40 feet into the air. Today that natural gas, in the Utica and Marcellus shale region, is being harvested, providing jobs and income to this small county.
The historical society also owns an old jail, which has been converted into a museum and shows yet another page in Ohio history. A vintage railway car completes the package, which, thanks to an active historical society and the Ball and Caldwell families, allows Ohioans another chance to learn about early days in their state.
Robert Caldwell and his family, from Chester County, Pennsylvania, moved in 1795 to the Northwest Territory, which General Putman opened up when he founded Marietta in 1788. Along with many others from the crowded eastern seaboard, the Caldwells came here in hopes of finding fertile grounds and less crowded conditions.
They purchased land, cleared it, and began farming. In 1832, Robert’s son Samuel and his wife Sara built a large mansion, now called the Ball-Caldwell House, and continued to farm in what was Morgan County at the time. But, thanks to Joseph and Samuel Caldwell, who owned most of the land in present-day Caldwell, the state established Noble County in 1851, the last of Ohio’s 88 counties to be formed. Six years later, when the Caldwells agreed to donate land, the state set Caldwell as the county seat and named it after the family, in gratitude for their donation.
The mansion left the family, after nearly a century of ownership, when Edmund and Elizabeth Ball purchased it in 1920. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980 and three years later Robert and Mary Ann Ball took ownership and began restoring it, giving the house its present name. In 2009 the Noble County Historical Society purchased the entire farmstead – the home and this barn. Built in 1940 for hay storage, the barn now serves as an event center, including a fundraiser that I did for the society in the fall of 2021.
Built into a bank, with its entrance protected by a covered walkway, the barn sits on solid sandstone blocks, which have not shifted in over 80 years. That foundation, coupled with a strong metal roof, assures many more years of continued service.
Along with this legacy, Noble County reeks of history. In 1814 Silas Thorla and Robert McKee were drilling for salt when they accidentally found oil, making this the first oil well in America. However, they were mostly interested in salt, which they found, though they continued to sell the oil. Sometimes natural gas would cause the salt brine to erupt 40 feet into the air. Today that natural gas, in the Utica and Marcellus shale region, is being harvested, providing jobs and income to this small county.
The historical society also owns an old jail, which has been converted into a museum and shows yet another page in Ohio history. A vintage railway car completes the package, which, thanks to an active historical society and the Ball and Caldwell families, allows Ohioans another chance to learn about early days in their state.
"Follow the Yellow Brick Road"
Jeff told me that Bill Clark owns this barn, one that's perched on a hill with a road leading up to it, much like the scene from the Wizard of Oz. The dirt road next to the barn was surfaced with brick from the Noble County brick factory in the mid-1970s, though most of it's gone now. And, though some of the barn's siding is missing, it continues to have purpose - sheep and cattle.
Jeff told me that Bill Clark owns this barn, one that's perched on a hill with a road leading up to it, much like the scene from the Wizard of Oz. The dirt road next to the barn was surfaced with brick from the Noble County brick factory in the mid-1970s, though most of it's gone now. And, though some of the barn's siding is missing, it continues to have purpose - sheep and cattle.
“Pickenpaugh Weeds”
These were the first barns we saw on our tour of Noble County in the fall of 2021. Barn Scout Jeff said that Earl and his brother Bill Pickenpaugh owned them.
The barn closest to the road was a large English three-bay with a handsome sandstone block foundation. Hay bales, strewn here and there, surrounded the barn and knee-high weeds, though showing beginning to engulf the barn, added color to the composition. Perhaps, in time, the brothers will decide this old beauty is worth saving and give the grass a long overdue haircut.
The second barn was about 30 yards further back and was probably used to store carriages and maybe horses, too. It was small, typical of a carriage barn and had a separate “man door,” used for access in bad weather. I like how the soft shadows filtered through the trees and highlighted the grass. If the old barn could talk, it would probably have some good stories to share.
These were the first barns we saw on our tour of Noble County in the fall of 2021. Barn Scout Jeff said that Earl and his brother Bill Pickenpaugh owned them.
The barn closest to the road was a large English three-bay with a handsome sandstone block foundation. Hay bales, strewn here and there, surrounded the barn and knee-high weeds, though showing beginning to engulf the barn, added color to the composition. Perhaps, in time, the brothers will decide this old beauty is worth saving and give the grass a long overdue haircut.
The second barn was about 30 yards further back and was probably used to store carriages and maybe horses, too. It was small, typical of a carriage barn and had a separate “man door,” used for access in bad weather. I like how the soft shadows filtered through the trees and highlighted the grass. If the old barn could talk, it would probably have some good stories to share.
“Pickenpaugh Shadows”
This is the sister of the barn next to the side of the road. Nearly totally engulfed by foilage, this little carriage barn still stands and, according to its Facebook posting, it still has a lot of fans ...
This is the sister of the barn next to the side of the road. Nearly totally engulfed by foilage, this little carriage barn still stands and, according to its Facebook posting, it still has a lot of fans ...
OTTAWA
“The Tornado”
Again, I resorted to consulting my bicentennial barn book to find a barn in Ottawa County since other avenues didn’t produce any. This county, like many in Ohio, is defenseless against the dreaded tornado, illustrated by Scott Hagan’s first attempt to capture a barn in this county, his sixth of the Ohio bicentennial series.
No sooner than Scott had completed his Ohio logo painting on a barn owned by the Apling family than a tornado ripped through Ottawa County. With no siren warning them, Scott and the Aplings ran for shelter, leaving his scaffolding up, which was a wise move. Within minutes, the tornado leveled the barn and several others in the area, wiping out his work and pinning one of his ladders under the barn. But the painter and the barn owners were safe. That was 1998.
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.
Again, I resorted to consulting my bicentennial barn book to find a barn in Ottawa County since other avenues didn’t produce any. This county, like many in Ohio, is defenseless against the dreaded tornado, illustrated by Scott Hagan’s first attempt to capture a barn in this county, his sixth of the Ohio bicentennial series.
No sooner than Scott had completed his Ohio logo painting on a barn owned by the Apling family than a tornado ripped through Ottawa County. With no siren warning them, Scott and the Aplings ran for shelter, leaving his scaffolding up, which was a wise move. Within minutes, the tornado leveled the barn and several others in the area, wiping out his work and pinning one of his ladders under the barn. But the painter and the barn owners were safe. That was 1998.
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.
PAULDING
“Logistics”
As I passed through Mercer and Van Wert counties on Route 127 – on my way to northern Indiana – I had to slow down, thanks to a virtual “white-out” of snow, apparently the first snow of the season in these parts. But I was determined to find a barn in Paulding County and, after going by this complex, I stopped and walked back for a closer look. As I was figuring out a composition, a large truck approached, its two headlights reflecting off the road. I couldn’t resist. I had to include the truck, barreling ahead despite the blizzard, and, since our society seems addicted to ordering everything online and having it delivered to the front doorstep, I named the painting in honor of the hardy truck driver, intent on delivering his load, no matter what the weather had to offer.
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.
As I passed through Mercer and Van Wert counties on Route 127 – on my way to northern Indiana – I had to slow down, thanks to a virtual “white-out” of snow, apparently the first snow of the season in these parts. But I was determined to find a barn in Paulding County and, after going by this complex, I stopped and walked back for a closer look. As I was figuring out a composition, a large truck approached, its two headlights reflecting off the road. I couldn’t resist. I had to include the truck, barreling ahead despite the blizzard, and, since our society seems addicted to ordering everything online and having it delivered to the front doorstep, I named the painting in honor of the hardy truck driver, intent on delivering his load, no matter what the weather had to offer.
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.
PERRY
The Round Barns of Perry County, Part II
“The Round Barns of Perry County”
The second round barn in Perry County I visited, a bit easier to find, is owned by John and Judy McGaughey, who acquired it in 1965. Unfortunately, I could not wait until they returned from church and brunch in the early afternoon since my mental and physical batteries were low – with yet another barn to see and then a two-hour drive home.
Kim from the Perry Chamber of Commerce informed me that this originally was the Mott Thomas farm, though I don’t know when the farm was established nor if there was an older barn. Present-owner Judy told me that this barn was built in 1909, about the time when round barns had become popular, and that the owners used it as a dairy barn, which the round barn was famous for since it could hold more stanchions than a conventional barn of similar size. Today the family uses it for storage.
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 second round barn in Perry County I visited, a bit easier to find, is owned by John and Judy McGaughey, who acquired it in 1965. Unfortunately, I could not wait until they returned from church and brunch in the early afternoon since my mental and physical batteries were low – with yet another barn to see and then a two-hour drive home.
Kim from the Perry Chamber of Commerce informed me that this originally was the Mott Thomas farm, though I don’t know when the farm was established nor if there was an older barn. Present-owner Judy told me that this barn was built in 1909, about the time when round barns had become popular, and that the owners used it as a dairy barn, which the round barn was famous for since it could hold more stanchions than a conventional barn of similar size. Today the family uses it for storage.
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 Round Barns of Perry County, Part I
“The Round Barns of Perry County, Part I”
I was tired when I arrived in Perry County – after four days of barn touring, two painting demos, a fundraiser, and a tortuous drive through ten counties in eastern Ohio – but my hopes were high, thanks to the prospects of seeing one of the nation’s unique pockets of round barns. I had spent a few hours early on a September morning in driving through Muskingum County for a peek at Susan McDonald’s family barn, a quintessential composition at dawn. On the way out, I stumbled upon a rare covered bridge painted with the Mail Pouch logo, a delightful surprise.
Finally I arrived in Perry County and, going up a gravel road, managed with difficulty to find the first of four round barns, all located within a ten-mile radius, a rarity that’s almost a barn museum in itself. This, the first one I saw, belongs to Linda and Neil Cooperider. Neil’s great grandfather built the original barn in the late 1800s, but lost it to a fire. Neil’s grandparents took over the farm and its 270 acres around 1920. They built this barn around 1926. Now, it’s used for hay storage, which they use for beef cattle. They also raise corn.
Linda told me that the roof used to have a golden color, but, since it was deteriorating, they replaced it in 2018. Though she was gone when I visited, Neil was home and showed me the inside of the barn, always a treat to see since round barns are so unusual. A giant metal silo rises to the top – with hatch doors every six feet or so from bottom to top. Large hay bales were stacked next to the silo, proving that this beauty still functions.
While I did visit two other round barns, I didn’t venture to find the fourth, called the Dornbirer barn, which looked intriguing from a photo that I saw. The cupola, heavily fenestrated with windows, matched the roof, one side of which appeared to be collapsing. It might be gone by now.
I was tired when I arrived in Perry County – after four days of barn touring, two painting demos, a fundraiser, and a tortuous drive through ten counties in eastern Ohio – but my hopes were high, thanks to the prospects of seeing one of the nation’s unique pockets of round barns. I had spent a few hours early on a September morning in driving through Muskingum County for a peek at Susan McDonald’s family barn, a quintessential composition at dawn. On the way out, I stumbled upon a rare covered bridge painted with the Mail Pouch logo, a delightful surprise.
Finally I arrived in Perry County and, going up a gravel road, managed with difficulty to find the first of four round barns, all located within a ten-mile radius, a rarity that’s almost a barn museum in itself. This, the first one I saw, belongs to Linda and Neil Cooperider. Neil’s great grandfather built the original barn in the late 1800s, but lost it to a fire. Neil’s grandparents took over the farm and its 270 acres around 1920. They built this barn around 1926. Now, it’s used for hay storage, which they use for beef cattle. They also raise corn.
Linda told me that the roof used to have a golden color, but, since it was deteriorating, they replaced it in 2018. Though she was gone when I visited, Neil was home and showed me the inside of the barn, always a treat to see since round barns are so unusual. A giant metal silo rises to the top – with hatch doors every six feet or so from bottom to top. Large hay bales were stacked next to the silo, proving that this beauty still functions.
While I did visit two other round barns, I didn’t venture to find the fourth, called the Dornbirer barn, which looked intriguing from a photo that I saw. The cupola, heavily fenestrated with windows, matched the roof, one side of which appeared to be collapsing. It might be gone by now.
The Round Barns of Perry County, Part III
“The Round Barns of Perry County, Part III”
On my way out of the county I tried to find the third round barn but got lost, which happened fairly regularly in my solo expeditions. Tired, I thought momentarily about scratching it, but, in my compulsive need to finish projects, I turned around, meandered back and found it, hidden pretty well from the main road. Its ownership is still a mystery.
The chamber of commerce said that it’s owned by Robert Muetzel, but they didn’t have his phone number. Instead I sent snail mail to an address in Columbus, which the chamber also provided. Sadly the letter came back, undelivered – with the cryptic message, “unable to forward.”
The chamber reported that the barn was originally on a farm owned by the Gilmore family and that it was first built in 1917. After it burned, the family rebuilt it in 1932, during the somber days of the Great Depression. The farmers must have been successful enough to keep going, despite losing their barn, and must have loved the look of their round barn enough to build another one.
Unlike other round barns, the roof of this one is a perfectly round dome. From my viewpoint, even though I didn’t have the chance to go inside, it appears to be in great shape – as it stood impressively at the top of a field of grass, dominating the bucolic scene. Let’s hope whoever owns it has a sense of history and has the resources to maintain it. The three barns of Perry County may never have a movie made about them – as the bridges in Madison County did – but they serve as Ohio’s best trio of round barns. And that’s enough.
On my way out of the county I tried to find the third round barn but got lost, which happened fairly regularly in my solo expeditions. Tired, I thought momentarily about scratching it, but, in my compulsive need to finish projects, I turned around, meandered back and found it, hidden pretty well from the main road. Its ownership is still a mystery.
The chamber of commerce said that it’s owned by Robert Muetzel, but they didn’t have his phone number. Instead I sent snail mail to an address in Columbus, which the chamber also provided. Sadly the letter came back, undelivered – with the cryptic message, “unable to forward.”
The chamber reported that the barn was originally on a farm owned by the Gilmore family and that it was first built in 1917. After it burned, the family rebuilt it in 1932, during the somber days of the Great Depression. The farmers must have been successful enough to keep going, despite losing their barn, and must have loved the look of their round barn enough to build another one.
Unlike other round barns, the roof of this one is a perfectly round dome. From my viewpoint, even though I didn’t have the chance to go inside, it appears to be in great shape – as it stood impressively at the top of a field of grass, dominating the bucolic scene. Let’s hope whoever owns it has a sense of history and has the resources to maintain it. The three barns of Perry County may never have a movie made about them – as the bridges in Madison County did – but they serve as Ohio’s best trio of round barns. And that’s enough.
PICKAWAY
“Living History”
Although a few years ago I did a painting of the county’s bicentennial barn, I became more intrigued with this one, expertly restored in Slate Run Living Historical Farm, part of the Metro Park system of Franklin County. The many parks in this system attract nearly eleven million visitors each year and, yes, history does come alive in this one, which is well sign-posted – near Canal Winchester and just barely inside the county line. Re-enactors, dressed in period clothing, run many study programs on 19th century farming and offer tours for children and adults, taking them through thirteen vintage buildings.
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.
Although a few years ago I did a painting of the county’s bicentennial barn, I became more intrigued with this one, expertly restored in Slate Run Living Historical Farm, part of the Metro Park system of Franklin County. The many parks in this system attract nearly eleven million visitors each year and, yes, history does come alive in this one, which is well sign-posted – near Canal Winchester and just barely inside the county line. Re-enactors, dressed in period clothing, run many study programs on 19th century farming and offer tours for children and adults, taking them through thirteen vintage buildings.
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.
PIKE
“The Bell”
Although Pike County takes its name from Zebulon Pike, whose expeditions helped discover our western lands and whose name graces the 14,000-foot mountain in Colorado, this essay focuses on the Ohio-Erie Canal that passed directly past the McClay farm – before it was replaced by State Route 104.
The McClay family traces back to James McClay, who was born in 1829 on a ship bringing immigrants from Ireland to the United States. He fought in the Civil War, as a soldier in the 14th Pennsylvania Calvary, was captured, and then moved to Ohio, where he began farming on this land in Pike County. But he didn’t own the land, as was common in the early days; instead, he rented from the Starr family who established the farm in the 1830s. Their family cemetery remains on the farm.
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.
Although Pike County takes its name from Zebulon Pike, whose expeditions helped discover our western lands and whose name graces the 14,000-foot mountain in Colorado, this essay focuses on the Ohio-Erie Canal that passed directly past the McClay farm – before it was replaced by State Route 104.
The McClay family traces back to James McClay, who was born in 1829 on a ship bringing immigrants from Ireland to the United States. He fought in the Civil War, as a soldier in the 14th Pennsylvania Calvary, was captured, and then moved to Ohio, where he began farming on this land in Pike County. But he didn’t own the land, as was common in the early days; instead, he rented from the Starr family who established the farm in the 1830s. Their family cemetery remains on the farm.
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.
PORTAGE
“Diagonal Road A”
Some roads are straight, some are narrow, some are wide; this one is called Diagonal. There’s one near where I live in Hamilton County that changes directions often. It’s called Zig Zag Road, a title that amused my mother when she visited a long time ago. When I took a trip to Maine to check out a stone barn – in October, 2022 – I found it – at the intersection of Crooked Road.
Well, the composition on Diagonal Road demanded a painting: an old vine-covered silo sat just in back of a barn, also covered in vines. Two barns, one with a long add-on, stood next to the silo, and, although it was hard to make out, a small shed was almost hidden by brush. Another barn, out in the open and not far from the farmhouse, was beginning to deteriorate, though its roof appeared solid. Missing side boards hinted that it needed maintenance.
At one time, this was a prosperous farm but today all that’s left is a field of bush and yellow goldenrod. The complex would have been more delineated in December, after all the foilage was gone. But sometimes a little mystery is OK, even on a diagonal road.
Some roads are straight, some are narrow, some are wide; this one is called Diagonal. There’s one near where I live in Hamilton County that changes directions often. It’s called Zig Zag Road, a title that amused my mother when she visited a long time ago. When I took a trip to Maine to check out a stone barn – in October, 2022 – I found it – at the intersection of Crooked Road.
Well, the composition on Diagonal Road demanded a painting: an old vine-covered silo sat just in back of a barn, also covered in vines. Two barns, one with a long add-on, stood next to the silo, and, although it was hard to make out, a small shed was almost hidden by brush. Another barn, out in the open and not far from the farmhouse, was beginning to deteriorate, though its roof appeared solid. Missing side boards hinted that it needed maintenance.
At one time, this was a prosperous farm but today all that’s left is a field of bush and yellow goldenrod. The complex would have been more delineated in December, after all the foilage was gone. But sometimes a little mystery is OK, even on a diagonal road.
“Twin Silos”
As we drove along Frost Road and passed this farmstead, I asked barn scout Ron to stop. The scene was the kind I like: a gothic roofed barn, hidden partially by trees and tucked behind a barn, its siding deteriorating. On the right side of the composition were signs of a busy farm: and old barn with a gambrel roof, which had a long addition, probably due to prosperity at one point. In front of that complex stood yet another barn, this one with track doors, showing hay bales inside.
But the stars of the show were the two cement silos, both appearing to be in excellent condition as they towered over the barns, almost as if they were silent sentinels, guarding their fellow farm buildings.
As we drove along Frost Road and passed this farmstead, I asked barn scout Ron to stop. The scene was the kind I like: a gothic roofed barn, hidden partially by trees and tucked behind a barn, its siding deteriorating. On the right side of the composition were signs of a busy farm: and old barn with a gambrel roof, which had a long addition, probably due to prosperity at one point. In front of that complex stood yet another barn, this one with track doors, showing hay bales inside.
But the stars of the show were the two cement silos, both appearing to be in excellent condition as they towered over the barns, almost as if they were silent sentinels, guarding their fellow farm buildings.
“Diagonal Road B”
This is another farmstead on Diagonal Road, one originally owned by the Chappick family, as barn scout Ron explained. Today the Cavanaughs own it and appear to be taking good care of it. From the road, the three barns seemed to be in darn good shape!
This is another farmstead on Diagonal Road, one originally owned by the Chappick family, as barn scout Ron explained. Today the Cavanaughs own it and appear to be taking good care of it. From the road, the three barns seemed to be in darn good shape!
“Magical Mystery”
On my Portage County barn tour, barn scout Ron graciously allowed to me stay in one of his apartments. After parking my car, I became riveted on this Victorian cottage, which looks as if it came out of and Hansel and Gretel fairytale. Ron explained that it was a Victorian guest house, circa 1890. An antique buff, he bought it from a dealer in Medina County.
Victorian design and architecture refers to the reign of Britain’s Queen Victoria, who ruled from 1837 to 1901. This style of building increased in popularity during the latter half of the 19th century. On the heels of the Industrial Revolution, which lasted from the 1760s to the 1840s, the middle class had more money and wanted to show it. Known for its gingerbread molding and steep roof peaks, the architecture had certain elements. Colors were usually darker – burgundy, forest green, or navy blue. Roofs were usually gabled and often had turrets, towers, or dormers. Sometimes windows featured stained glass. Woodwork was usually decorative, challenging the best of carpenters.
Ron not only purchased this piece of history but he transported it over many miles, giving the public a glimpse into this beautifully-crafted guest house, a view that must have attracted a fair numbers of onlookers during the long journey. Now this magical building will have a new home, thanks to historically-minded Ron. The cottage is a mystery no longer.
On my Portage County barn tour, barn scout Ron graciously allowed to me stay in one of his apartments. After parking my car, I became riveted on this Victorian cottage, which looks as if it came out of and Hansel and Gretel fairytale. Ron explained that it was a Victorian guest house, circa 1890. An antique buff, he bought it from a dealer in Medina County.
Victorian design and architecture refers to the reign of Britain’s Queen Victoria, who ruled from 1837 to 1901. This style of building increased in popularity during the latter half of the 19th century. On the heels of the Industrial Revolution, which lasted from the 1760s to the 1840s, the middle class had more money and wanted to show it. Known for its gingerbread molding and steep roof peaks, the architecture had certain elements. Colors were usually darker – burgundy, forest green, or navy blue. Roofs were usually gabled and often had turrets, towers, or dormers. Sometimes windows featured stained glass. Woodwork was usually decorative, challenging the best of carpenters.
Ron not only purchased this piece of history but he transported it over many miles, giving the public a glimpse into this beautifully-crafted guest house, a view that must have attracted a fair numbers of onlookers during the long journey. Now this magical building will have a new home, thanks to historically-minded Ron. The cottage is a mystery no longer.
“Labor of Love”
Although I didn’t have old photos of this pre-Civil War era barn, I tried to imagine what it might have looked like in its heyday. Ron commissioned Randy Guyette of Eagle Creek Designs, to dismantle it, move it from its original location in Millersport, a small village in Fairfield County, and reassemble it on the grounds of his sand and gravel business. The timber-framed barn still shows rare marriage marks on its joints, a throw-back to the scribe rule of building a barn, used in the 18th century but phased out in the next century.
Ron plans to convert the barn to a construction museum. Antique equipment are already filling it up. Two of them, a 1941 Worthington generator and a 16-inch gun, were used off the coast of Long Island – as Civil Defense during World War II. A member of the Historical Construction Equipment Association, Ron puts his money where his mouth is.
Yes, it won’t be easy and it won’t be cheap to turn this old fellow into a museum, but, if anyone can do it, Ron can. Truly a labor of love.
Although I didn’t have old photos of this pre-Civil War era barn, I tried to imagine what it might have looked like in its heyday. Ron commissioned Randy Guyette of Eagle Creek Designs, to dismantle it, move it from its original location in Millersport, a small village in Fairfield County, and reassemble it on the grounds of his sand and gravel business. The timber-framed barn still shows rare marriage marks on its joints, a throw-back to the scribe rule of building a barn, used in the 18th century but phased out in the next century.
Ron plans to convert the barn to a construction museum. Antique equipment are already filling it up. Two of them, a 1941 Worthington generator and a 16-inch gun, were used off the coast of Long Island – as Civil Defense during World War II. A member of the Historical Construction Equipment Association, Ron puts his money where his mouth is.
Yes, it won’t be easy and it won’t be cheap to turn this old fellow into a museum, but, if anyone can do it, Ron can. Truly a labor of love.
“Labora et Ora”
This Latin phrase, the motto of Trappist monks, means work and prayer, which conveys what happened in this one-room schoolhouse over a century ago. In those days teachers often taught children of varying ages, a far cry from schools of today that feature specific grades for ages from six to 18.
In the 1870s, when this school, District School #3, was in session, the teacher would often invoke a prayer to God, now forbidden. She – or he – would also be allowed to use a ruler for something other than measuring inches – like cracking the knuckles of a student horsing around. Again, outlawed today.
Barn scout Ron told me that Shalersville had eight one-room schoolhouses at one time and one high school, though the schoolhouses were phased out in the 1930s, replaced by larger school buildings. This one was eventually abandoned.
Richard Donner, a developer, donated the schoolhouse to the Shalersville Historical Society and Ron graciously and generously moved it onto the society’s grounds. He plans to revamp the building into its original condition, which will require funding and a lot of “labora et ora.”
This Latin phrase, the motto of Trappist monks, means work and prayer, which conveys what happened in this one-room schoolhouse over a century ago. In those days teachers often taught children of varying ages, a far cry from schools of today that feature specific grades for ages from six to 18.
In the 1870s, when this school, District School #3, was in session, the teacher would often invoke a prayer to God, now forbidden. She – or he – would also be allowed to use a ruler for something other than measuring inches – like cracking the knuckles of a student horsing around. Again, outlawed today.
Barn scout Ron told me that Shalersville had eight one-room schoolhouses at one time and one high school, though the schoolhouses were phased out in the 1930s, replaced by larger school buildings. This one was eventually abandoned.
Richard Donner, a developer, donated the schoolhouse to the Shalersville Historical Society and Ron graciously and generously moved it onto the society’s grounds. He plans to revamp the building into its original condition, which will require funding and a lot of “labora et ora.”
“Frost Road”
This farmstead sits behind fertile cropland, next to Frost Road, which reminded me of a New England story. Robert Frost, one of America’s noted poets wrote a poem, published in 1915, about the same era as this large barn was built. The last few lines of The Road Not Taken give a lesson for all, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” Located on Frost Road, the barn and perhaps its legacy reflect the poet’s words. Did the farmer, who spent many years here in good seasons and lean seasons, avoid too much debt, survive the Great Depression, and raise food for the troops in World War II? Farm life is not always easy, depends on the whims of Nature, and can be considered the road less traveled.
This farmstead sits behind fertile cropland, next to Frost Road, which reminded me of a New England story. Robert Frost, one of America’s noted poets wrote a poem, published in 1915, about the same era as this large barn was built. The last few lines of The Road Not Taken give a lesson for all, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” Located on Frost Road, the barn and perhaps its legacy reflect the poet’s words. Did the farmer, who spent many years here in good seasons and lean seasons, avoid too much debt, survive the Great Depression, and raise food for the troops in World War II? Farm life is not always easy, depends on the whims of Nature, and can be considered the road less traveled.
“Ronnie’s Pride and Joy”
On my Portage County barn tour in September, 2022, barn scout Ron, kindly let me stay in one of his apartments, right next to this old barn, built by William R. Wright in 1845 in Shalersville, which Ron had moved to this location and later repurposed. Though it stood on flat land, Ron nestled it into a bank.
Originally owned by the Wright family, the barn now houses a distillery, run by Ben, one of Ron’s sons. Old barns need to learn new tricks; otherwise they wither and die. Thanks to Ron and his son, this one will survive for many years to come.
On my Portage County barn tour in September, 2022, barn scout Ron, kindly let me stay in one of his apartments, right next to this old barn, built by William R. Wright in 1845 in Shalersville, which Ron had moved to this location and later repurposed. Though it stood on flat land, Ron nestled it into a bank.
Originally owned by the Wright family, the barn now houses a distillery, run by Ben, one of Ron’s sons. Old barns need to learn new tricks; otherwise they wither and die. Thanks to Ron and his son, this one will survive for many years to come.
“Chicklet’s Chickens”
There’s not much to this barn, a plain Jane as I like to call these simple affairs, except that it was purchased by barn scout Ronnie Kotkowski in 2007. After rehabbing the barn extensively, Ronnie, one of the most notable philanthropists in the county, plans to …
It’s a true bank barn, one built directly into the side of a hill – compared to one with a built-up earthen bank to the second-floor entrance. Ronnie said that it was built around 1900, though it may not have been the first barn on this farm – an 1874 farmhouse sits across the road. The former owners, Gloria and Richard Chicklets raised chickens and graced the roof of the barn with a rooster weather vane. Hence the painting’s title, “Chicklet’s Chickens.”
There’s not much to this barn, a plain Jane as I like to call these simple affairs, except that it was purchased by barn scout Ronnie Kotkowski in 2007. After rehabbing the barn extensively, Ronnie, one of the most notable philanthropists in the county, plans to …
It’s a true bank barn, one built directly into the side of a hill – compared to one with a built-up earthen bank to the second-floor entrance. Ronnie said that it was built around 1900, though it may not have been the first barn on this farm – an 1874 farmhouse sits across the road. The former owners, Gloria and Richard Chicklets raised chickens and graced the roof of the barn with a rooster weather vane. Hence the painting’s title, “Chicklet’s Chickens.”
“Benjamin’s Beauty”
Any artist would love this composition: a massive red barn, well maintained and protected with a metal roof, smudges of gray peeking through its red paint, and sitting on top of a small rise. A tall silo, its white paint chipping beneath its conical cap, frames the left side of the scene, while a hardwood tree frames the right side – with the roof of a milk house barely peering over the bank.
Barn scout Ronnie introduced me to the owners, the Benjamins, Richard and Josianne, who took the farm over from Richard’s dad, Zena. Originally the farm sat on 640 acres and the farmhouse was built in the 1820s. The farmstead is one of the oldest in the county. Years ago, the Benjamins raised dairy cows – the milkhouse dates to 1948 – though the dairy business ended in 1985. These days they raise beef cattle and hay on 100 acres and continue to use this old barn, one I call “Benjamin’s Beauty.”
Any artist would love this composition: a massive red barn, well maintained and protected with a metal roof, smudges of gray peeking through its red paint, and sitting on top of a small rise. A tall silo, its white paint chipping beneath its conical cap, frames the left side of the scene, while a hardwood tree frames the right side – with the roof of a milk house barely peering over the bank.
Barn scout Ronnie introduced me to the owners, the Benjamins, Richard and Josianne, who took the farm over from Richard’s dad, Zena. Originally the farm sat on 640 acres and the farmhouse was built in the 1820s. The farmstead is one of the oldest in the county. Years ago, the Benjamins raised dairy cows – the milkhouse dates to 1948 – though the dairy business ended in 1985. These days they raise beef cattle and hay on 100 acres and continue to use this old barn, one I call “Benjamin’s Beauty.”
“Dramatic”
Every now and then, while I’m browsing through barn pages on Facebook, I’m struck by an outstanding photograph, such as one, taken by Rich Hall, in the area of Ravenna, Portage County. When I decided to paint it and put the painting in a fundraiser for the county historical societies that I support, I contacted Rich, explaining my intentions. He approved, but didn’t know exactly where the barn was located.
So, I sent the image to barn scout Heather – in hopes that she’d be able to track it down. With luck, she’ll uncover the history behind this striking scene. The barn appears to have been built in the late 19th century – with a simple gable roof, the precursor to the gambrel roof, designed for more hay storage. Covered with multi-colored slate, the roof seems to have the owner’s name inscribed and it’s protected by glass ball lightning rods, hinting that it’s been used in the last 50 years. The major player in the scene, the massive clay tile silo, suggests that the owner was prosperous enough to afford this type, more expensive than a wooden ones silo, which were commonly built in the late 1890s.
However, vines creep up its sides and a variety of bushes and weeds are beginning to engulf the barn, hinting that the owners have little, if any, intention of saving it. Regardless, the slate-roofed barn and its monster silo, thanks to Rich Hall’s photograph, have given me a chance to preserve some history in this composition, dramatic but not forgotten.
Every now and then, while I’m browsing through barn pages on Facebook, I’m struck by an outstanding photograph, such as one, taken by Rich Hall, in the area of Ravenna, Portage County. When I decided to paint it and put the painting in a fundraiser for the county historical societies that I support, I contacted Rich, explaining my intentions. He approved, but didn’t know exactly where the barn was located.
So, I sent the image to barn scout Heather – in hopes that she’d be able to track it down. With luck, she’ll uncover the history behind this striking scene. The barn appears to have been built in the late 19th century – with a simple gable roof, the precursor to the gambrel roof, designed for more hay storage. Covered with multi-colored slate, the roof seems to have the owner’s name inscribed and it’s protected by glass ball lightning rods, hinting that it’s been used in the last 50 years. The major player in the scene, the massive clay tile silo, suggests that the owner was prosperous enough to afford this type, more expensive than a wooden ones silo, which were commonly built in the late 1890s.
However, vines creep up its sides and a variety of bushes and weeds are beginning to engulf the barn, hinting that the owners have little, if any, intention of saving it. Regardless, the slate-roofed barn and its monster silo, thanks to Rich Hall’s photograph, have given me a chance to preserve some history in this composition, dramatic but not forgotten.
“The Portage Path”
Leianne, my Summit County barn scout, spotted this photogenic beauty for me and put me in touch with the owners, Lynne and her husband Ronald Bensinger, who bought the farm in 1999. When I asked her why they chose a rural setting, she said, “It seemed like a good place to raise five kids.” After observing the benefits of raising children on a farm, I’d have to agree with that.
The scene was one that photographers dream about: a road winding up and curving towards the farmhouse, a pine tree to the left and a tilted wooden fence to the right of the road, an old water wheel, and two silos towering over the barn, its weathered red paint streaked with gray. I wish all barns could be framed so well. I loved the composition. The weather was another matter.
The day was chilly, one with snow flurries and wind-chill in the 20s, but Lynne was kind enough to spend some time with me. She told me that they don’t know much about the original owners except that house was built in 1900 as was the original barn, which burned down in 1920 and was rebuilt. Inside, the timber is saw cut and there’s a basketball hoop, probably reserved for play time after farm chores were done.
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.
Leianne, my Summit County barn scout, spotted this photogenic beauty for me and put me in touch with the owners, Lynne and her husband Ronald Bensinger, who bought the farm in 1999. When I asked her why they chose a rural setting, she said, “It seemed like a good place to raise five kids.” After observing the benefits of raising children on a farm, I’d have to agree with that.
The scene was one that photographers dream about: a road winding up and curving towards the farmhouse, a pine tree to the left and a tilted wooden fence to the right of the road, an old water wheel, and two silos towering over the barn, its weathered red paint streaked with gray. I wish all barns could be framed so well. I loved the composition. The weather was another matter.
The day was chilly, one with snow flurries and wind-chill in the 20s, but Lynne was kind enough to spend some time with me. She told me that they don’t know much about the original owners except that house was built in 1900 as was the original barn, which burned down in 1920 and was rebuilt. Inside, the timber is saw cut and there’s a basketball hoop, probably reserved for play time after farm chores were done.
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 Tractor in Winter”
Barn scout Heather sent me this photo of a Mail Pouch barn and asked me to paint it well before I had a chance to look inside. The winter scene showed naked trees, an old bank barn with an add-on, all lightly dusted with snow. In front of the barn, almost defying Old Man Winter, was a vintage farm tractor, also barely snow covered. It reminded me that we all age, regardless of occupation or stature, and, more in particular, to an essay that Pulitzer Prize winning author John Updike wrote for AARP magazine, a publication aimed at old folks like me. Here’s a bit from that essay, titled The Writer in Winter.
“Young or old, a writer sends a book into the world, not himself. There is no Senior Tour for authors, with the tees shortened by 20 yards and carts allowed. No mercy is extended by the reviewers; but then it is not extended to the rookie writer, either. He or she may feel, as the gray-haired scribes of the day continue to take up space and consume the oxygen in the increasingly small room of the print world, that the elderly have the edge, with their established names and already secured honors.
“With ominous frequency, I can’t think of the right word. I know there is a word; I can visualize the exact shape it occupies in the jigsaw puzzle of the English language. But the word itself, with its precise edges and unique tint of meaning, hangs on the misty rim of consciousness. Eventually, with shamefaced recourse to my well-thumbed thesaurus or to a germane encyclopedia article, I may pin the word down, only to discover that it unfortunately rhymes with the adjoining word of the sentence. Meanwhile, I have lost the rhythm and syntax of the thought I was shaping up, and the paragraph has skidded off (like this one) in an unforeseen direction.”
Looking at that old tractor in the scene made me wonder what adventures it had seen in its lifetime. Harvesting of crops, hauling hay into the haymow, a secret teenaged romance in the hayloft, the good years of crop production, followed by the lean years of the Great Depression. Now, it’s tired and relegated to simply sitting in front the barn, whose fresh coat of paint shows that the owner wanted to preserve the historic nostalgia of that tobacco advertisement. But, again kudos to the owner, the tractor hasn’t been scrapped; it’s still there, a reminder of the old days on this farm, a tractor in the winter of its years.
Barn scout Heather sent me this photo of a Mail Pouch barn and asked me to paint it well before I had a chance to look inside. The winter scene showed naked trees, an old bank barn with an add-on, all lightly dusted with snow. In front of the barn, almost defying Old Man Winter, was a vintage farm tractor, also barely snow covered. It reminded me that we all age, regardless of occupation or stature, and, more in particular, to an essay that Pulitzer Prize winning author John Updike wrote for AARP magazine, a publication aimed at old folks like me. Here’s a bit from that essay, titled The Writer in Winter.
“Young or old, a writer sends a book into the world, not himself. There is no Senior Tour for authors, with the tees shortened by 20 yards and carts allowed. No mercy is extended by the reviewers; but then it is not extended to the rookie writer, either. He or she may feel, as the gray-haired scribes of the day continue to take up space and consume the oxygen in the increasingly small room of the print world, that the elderly have the edge, with their established names and already secured honors.
“With ominous frequency, I can’t think of the right word. I know there is a word; I can visualize the exact shape it occupies in the jigsaw puzzle of the English language. But the word itself, with its precise edges and unique tint of meaning, hangs on the misty rim of consciousness. Eventually, with shamefaced recourse to my well-thumbed thesaurus or to a germane encyclopedia article, I may pin the word down, only to discover that it unfortunately rhymes with the adjoining word of the sentence. Meanwhile, I have lost the rhythm and syntax of the thought I was shaping up, and the paragraph has skidded off (like this one) in an unforeseen direction.”
Looking at that old tractor in the scene made me wonder what adventures it had seen in its lifetime. Harvesting of crops, hauling hay into the haymow, a secret teenaged romance in the hayloft, the good years of crop production, followed by the lean years of the Great Depression. Now, it’s tired and relegated to simply sitting in front the barn, whose fresh coat of paint shows that the owner wanted to preserve the historic nostalgia of that tobacco advertisement. But, again kudos to the owner, the tractor hasn’t been scrapped; it’s still there, a reminder of the old days on this farm, a tractor in the winter of its years.
Same barn, different season, and minus an old tractor ... (a strong candidate for book #2 on Ohio barns)
“Overgrown, But Not Forgotten”
Barn aficionado Heather sent me an image of this little three-bay English threshing barn on Wheeler Road and asked me to remember it in a painting. Its window was broken, its barn door tilted and barely hanging together, and the metal on the add-on shed’s roof was broken, allowing deadly water to enter, signaling the end. A robust bush had hidden most of the shed, but it didn’t merit inclusion into the painting; the shed and its damaged roof rated higher.
Yes, bushes in front and in the rear of the barn threaten to hide it completely and, yes, it may be overgrown, but, now that it’s been recorded in this essay and painting, it won’t be forgotten.
Barn aficionado Heather sent me an image of this little three-bay English threshing barn on Wheeler Road and asked me to remember it in a painting. Its window was broken, its barn door tilted and barely hanging together, and the metal on the add-on shed’s roof was broken, allowing deadly water to enter, signaling the end. A robust bush had hidden most of the shed, but it didn’t merit inclusion into the painting; the shed and its damaged roof rated higher.
Yes, bushes in front and in the rear of the barn threaten to hide it completely and, yes, it may be overgrown, but, now that it’s been recorded in this essay and painting, it won’t be forgotten.
“No Joy in Mud Mill”
Again, barn scout Heather came through with a photogenic barn, which she called “the last standing cheese house in Mantua,” an image taken on a snowy day in Portage County in what was once the industry area of our pioneering settlers. Located in what used to be a tiny village in Ohio, one called Mud Mill, the barn may have been primarily a dairy barn and it appears to having been built into a bank. Though its board and batten siding is weathered, it now has a fresh coat of paint in my rendition. Missing boards and a cracked roof hint that its days are numbered – as is the story of Mud Mill.
Situated on both sides of the Cuyahoga River and Pioneer Trail, Mud Mill was once a thriving Ohio community – with a sawmill (Did the mill produce the barn’s lumber?), several corn whiskey distilleries, a tannery, an ashery a glass factory, and cheese factories. Such goods were shipped to eastern states as early as 1803, though transportation was much easier after the Ohio and Erie Canal was completed in 1830. Regardless, good times eventually left Mud Mill and it disappeared, being remembered on some old maps and, of course, in this painting and essay. It conjures up thoughts of the mighty Casey, “And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; but there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.” Thank you, Ernest Lawrence Thayer, who wrote our most beloved baseball poem in 1888, 19 years after the Cincinnati Red Stockings became America’s first team. And, yes, in these days, there is no joy in Mud Mill, either.
Again, barn scout Heather came through with a photogenic barn, which she called “the last standing cheese house in Mantua,” an image taken on a snowy day in Portage County in what was once the industry area of our pioneering settlers. Located in what used to be a tiny village in Ohio, one called Mud Mill, the barn may have been primarily a dairy barn and it appears to having been built into a bank. Though its board and batten siding is weathered, it now has a fresh coat of paint in my rendition. Missing boards and a cracked roof hint that its days are numbered – as is the story of Mud Mill.
Situated on both sides of the Cuyahoga River and Pioneer Trail, Mud Mill was once a thriving Ohio community – with a sawmill (Did the mill produce the barn’s lumber?), several corn whiskey distilleries, a tannery, an ashery a glass factory, and cheese factories. Such goods were shipped to eastern states as early as 1803, though transportation was much easier after the Ohio and Erie Canal was completed in 1830. Regardless, good times eventually left Mud Mill and it disappeared, being remembered on some old maps and, of course, in this painting and essay. It conjures up thoughts of the mighty Casey, “And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; but there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.” Thank you, Ernest Lawrence Thayer, who wrote our most beloved baseball poem in 1888, 19 years after the Cincinnati Red Stockings became America’s first team. And, yes, in these days, there is no joy in Mud Mill, either.
“Complementary”
I had to give barn scout Heather a compliment for finding this image of the Derthick family’s stately barn. Not only did her photo have the correct elements for a classic composition, it featured an attractive cupola with complementary colors. As every artist knows, the color wheel is an aide in mixing and lowering the values in paint. Colors on the opposite sides of the color wheel – red and green, yellow and violet, and orange and blue – are complements to each other. Simply, to gray down a green – or lower the value, making it less intense – one adds a bit of red and, voila, a bright green becomes dull. Values in a painting are probably the most important element. Even if perspective is off a bit and proportion not quite right, good values can come to the rescue.
This grand barn, despite its paint having weathered over the decades, a vine creeping up its side, and a towering cement silo trying to intimidate it, deserves being remembered. I hope my painting paid it a compliment.
I had to give barn scout Heather a compliment for finding this image of the Derthick family’s stately barn. Not only did her photo have the correct elements for a classic composition, it featured an attractive cupola with complementary colors. As every artist knows, the color wheel is an aide in mixing and lowering the values in paint. Colors on the opposite sides of the color wheel – red and green, yellow and violet, and orange and blue – are complements to each other. Simply, to gray down a green – or lower the value, making it less intense – one adds a bit of red and, voila, a bright green becomes dull. Values in a painting are probably the most important element. Even if perspective is off a bit and proportion not quite right, good values can come to the rescue.
This grand barn, despite its paint having weathered over the decades, a vine creeping up its side, and a towering cement silo trying to intimidate it, deserves being remembered. I hope my painting paid it a compliment.
PREBLE
“Rinehart Homestead”
Situated directly west of Dayton, this county borders Indiana and takes its name from Edward Preble, a naval officer in the Revolutionary War. Many of its 42,000 residents are involved in some way in farming since there are close to 1,100 farms in the county. And there are plenty of barns, too. Someday I’d like to have a look at Big Ole Fat Creek, a county stream named, presumably, for its girth. But who named it and why? So many Ohio counties, so many barns, so little time.
One of my neighbors, Rich Dineen, commissioned a painting of his grandparents’ barn in Preble County, which has since been dismantled, as have many of Ohio treasures. Fortunately, Rich had old photos, which I used. I caught the essence of the barn, though fine details – like the 1897 date above the barn door – are hard to see in a small painting. Underneath the date, there was some more writing, “Rinehart Homestead.” Home on the range!
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.
Situated directly west of Dayton, this county borders Indiana and takes its name from Edward Preble, a naval officer in the Revolutionary War. Many of its 42,000 residents are involved in some way in farming since there are close to 1,100 farms in the county. And there are plenty of barns, too. Someday I’d like to have a look at Big Ole Fat Creek, a county stream named, presumably, for its girth. But who named it and why? So many Ohio counties, so many barns, so little time.
One of my neighbors, Rich Dineen, commissioned a painting of his grandparents’ barn in Preble County, which has since been dismantled, as have many of Ohio treasures. Fortunately, Rich had old photos, which I used. I caught the essence of the barn, though fine details – like the 1897 date above the barn door – are hard to see in a small painting. Underneath the date, there was some more writing, “Rinehart Homestead.” Home on the range!
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.
PUTNAM
“The Docent”
I met Keith Sommer, owner of this barn, in the McDonalds parking lot near Bluffton, as my barn scout, Dr. Dave Poeppelman, and I were getting ready to leave for our tour in Putnam County on a brisk May morning. Keith, a walking encyclopedia on old barns and their construction, came along and educated us on the finer points of barn architecture throughout the tour. His barn was a beauty.
The story begins when his great-great grandfather, Johannes Geiger, Jr., emigrated with his parents and siblings from Switzerland in 1835 to the Swiss settlement in Putnam County. First, they built a log house and then a log barn. Around 1847 the family built a water powered reciprocating saw mill and probably did custom sawing for neighbors.
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 met Keith Sommer, owner of this barn, in the McDonalds parking lot near Bluffton, as my barn scout, Dr. Dave Poeppelman, and I were getting ready to leave for our tour in Putnam County on a brisk May morning. Keith, a walking encyclopedia on old barns and their construction, came along and educated us on the finer points of barn architecture throughout the tour. His barn was a beauty.
The story begins when his great-great grandfather, Johannes Geiger, Jr., emigrated with his parents and siblings from Switzerland in 1835 to the Swiss settlement in Putnam County. First, they built a log house and then a log barn. Around 1847 the family built a water powered reciprocating saw mill and probably did custom sawing for neighbors.
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.