Hump Day History to Wisk Away Weary Wednesdays! Jerry Janco

Mrs. Garrison

By Jerry Janco
This Bob Blickensderfer photo could resemble Mrs. Garrison,  although we don’t know what she really looked like.

I knew her only as Mrs. Garrison. Then, as now, it didn’t seem appropriate to call her by her first name, though I imagine it to be Edna, or Mable, or Gertrude…one of the old-fashioned names that are out of style. She was a tiny, old lady with long gray hair which she kept in a tight braided bun. Once, when I was delivering groceries to her place, she hadn’t had time to braid her hair and it was well below her shoulders and down her back. To me, it seemed so strange that she had to spend the time to weave the hair braid and then coil it on the back of her head. After all, both of my grandmothers cut and curled THEIR hair. That seemed easier and more flattering. But I don’t think Mrs. Garrison was concerned with ease or flattery. Pride maybe. She seemed embarrassed that I saw her with her hair down and it never happened again after that one time.

In all other things modesty prevailed, from her simple flowered house dress to her humble surroundings. Mrs. Garrison smiled a lot, but we never had much of a conversation. She had hunched shoulders which gave me the impression of someone who was used to hard work and tough times. She nodded more than she spoke, but in a friendly way. I delivered groceries to her from Picard’s Market As far as I know, she didn’t drive a car nor was ever actually in the store. Perhaps when she was younger.

Mrs. Garrison lived in a chicken coup that had been converted into a house shortly after the Depression. From the outside, it still looked like a coop. At its highest point the roof was maybe nine feet tall, and it tapered down to about six feet. It was a good twenty feet long but only ten feet wide. The original tongue and grove siding had been covered over with thick sheets of tar paper that had a brown-brick pattern in it. It was supposed to look like the real thing, but you knew it wasn’t. At least durable, it didn’t need to be painted. The entire south wall of the coup housed the large, paned windows. Chickens need plenty of heat and light to thrive, and the windows provided both. At some point, plastic had been stapled over the windows in order to keep the place warmer in the winter.

The interior looked more like a house, but the traces of the coop were still here. The ceiling had been painted but still had the downward slope of the roofline. There was a small, makeshift kitchen when you first entered. Surprisingly, a hand-pump was still intact from its coop days, and Mrs. Garrison’s only means for water in the kitchen. There was a single, cast-iron sink beneath the waterspout of the pump. She had hung a pair of curtains under the sink, so I don’t know what held it up. Next to the sink was the gas stove, one that seemed to match Mrs. Garrison’s age and condition…old and frail. A small cupboard was next to the stove. I have a feeling it was made from the remnants of the coup renovation, but I don’t know for sure. It looked homemade. The tiny refrigerator was opposite the stove, and next to it was a tall, white, metal cabinet with doors. Frankly, it seemed out of place since it couldn’t have been more than a few years old.

Throughout the kitchen the plank walls had been papered with a tiny floral print It was pink on a white background. Well, I say white. Over the years, and with help from the gas stove, the background had faded to a dull, dirty beige. You could still see the flowers, but they weren’t as prominent. The paper-tears between the planks didn’t help either. One of the south-facing windows was in the kitchen and in front of it was a small wooden table with a chair on either end. They were old, too. I don’t remember if it had a tablecloth, but I suspect it did.

The only thing that was hanging from the wall was an old picture of a young man with a beard. It was mounted in an oval frame and the glass that covered the photo had been molded to form an outward bow. I had never seen glass like that, and I thought it was unique. The man was tall and thin and dressed in what could have been a leather shirt. It had a row of fringe along the front. It reminded me of the image I had of a Kit Carson or other adventurer of the 1860’s, though I think the photo was taken at a much later date.

His beard seemed large for his face, as did the moustache, but it must have been the style at the time. He had long hair, too. It flowed out from the brimmed cap he was wearing. Though I’m not assuming that this was Mrs. Garrison’s husband, in any case, I felt it had meaning, as it hung above the sink and was one of the first things you saw when you entered her place.

Off from the kitchen in the downward slope of the coop, was a tiny bathroom. Beyond the kitchen was what she probably called the living room. I never had a reason to go there, and she never invited me there. Chances are she used the living room as a bedroom, too, though she may have been reluctant to admit it. I like to think she kept her blankets hidden and only used them when nighttime, winter winds tore the plastic on the windows, and she was dreaming of a young man with a beard.

Or not. Ah, but for the imagination of my youth. She may have just been thankful for a warm place.

The chicken coop is gone now. I suppose I could try to trace Mrs. Garrison’s history. The coop was on Earl Torrence’s property, and I think Mrs. Garrison was Mrs. Torrence’s mother. The Torrence’s lived in the big house next to the coop. They are all long dead now and the neighborhood has changed. Most of them never knew there was a coop or a Mrs. Garrison.

HUMP Day History to Wisk Away Weary Wednesdays! Bob Blickensderfer

Just An Empty Field

By Bob Blickensderfer

In 1930 at the beginning of the Great Depression my parents and I moved to our newly built home at 630 Mill Street. It sets on the east side of the street, just across the street from the present-day Foursquare Gospel Church which was built on what was then just an empty triangularly shaped field bordered by Mill Street on the east, Peach Street running from Mill northeast to Carl Street, which formed the north side of the triangle.

The field sat empty except for the fall when fishnets were laid out along the northern area after the close of the annual fishing season. By early spring, the field was lying empty ready for exploitation by us boys in the area. Trenches were dug and covered with cardboard or discarded tin roofing to create world war style military bunkers.

The First World War had just ended twelve years earlier and there was many battles fought with dirt clods as missiles and toy rifles to ward off raids by the Huns against the heroic Yanks who invariably prevailed. When the war was over for the season, kites were in the air in the late spring and the flying of homemade model airplanes also saw action.

A ball field had been laid out – no dugouts or stands – just an open area where the local boys would get together to play pick-up games that were definitely not organized. When I got a new catcher’s mitt for Christmas, I wound up playing catcher, but then I became the proud owner of a neat fielder’s glove, much more to my liking.

Several of us had bats of various quality and a new baseball coming out of its cardboard box was a thing of beauty! The feeling of that unblemished horsehide cover! The smell of the leather! It seemed almost a crime to destroy that magic, but it would soon be put into play. Since a new ball cost fifty cents or so when the hard labor for a 60-hour week was about $30.00, the ball was used until it became a misshapen orb, sometimes held together with black friction tape to repair the frayed stitching and “innards.”

As summer approached September, football came into play, again just a bunch of us choosing up sides, and trying to pound each other into the dirt.

But our playing field turned into something special in late spring when the first billboards and posters proclaimed that a circus was coming soon – it was the city’s official circus field. We checked out the colorful scenes depicted on the advertising. What were their main attractions? Any Wild West show? What exotic animals were depicted? How many rings? (Very important to our ratings…three rings at least plus a menagerie) …

 Most of the smaller circuses traveled in an assortment of trucks and house trailers. Some of the large shows like Cole Brothers and Hagenbeck and Wallace came on the railroad, unloading on the New York Central siding across from the present-day railroad museum (the former NYC depot).

Our neighborhood gang was always on hand to make sure everything was done properly. A small party from the soon to arrive circus usually made an appearance at the field to check the facility. They looked over the field’s condition, shape size, and source of water. In the early evening before circus day, trucks began arriving from that day’s show to start preparing for the entire circus to arrive during the night.

We neighborhood boys were up early circus day to look everything over especially the animal trucks lining Mill Street opposite the field. The cages were covered for travel, but we could hear the sound of big cats nervously pacing and rumbling to themselves. It was not difficult to locate the trucks carrying the elephants, camels, and horses because of their larger size.

The trucks loaded with the various tents poles, seats, and myriad other props were already spotted around the field in areas close to where they would be used. Usually the first tent to be erected would be the food tent, so the “roustabouts” could have chow before beginning to put up the tents.

The larger animals were also allowed out and staked down so they could be fed and watered. I never saw animals neglected or treated badly, for each animal was an investment in money and care. One memorable circus took four or five elephants and ran the down Grove Street to Township Park so they could frolic in the lake, which they did with gusto. We kids ran along with them, as excited as the elephants who lay down in the water and really had a ball as all elephants love the water. What wonderful photos could have been taken, but in the 1930’s cameras and films were just too costly to record everyday events.

Our house had a water faucet near the northwest corner that always attracted circus people wanting a bucket or two of water for their own needs. Some rang the doorbell to ask permission, but they also helped themselves if we weren’t home, but my folks never seemed to mind.

The big top usually ran east and west along 12th Street, while the Midway shows and the main entrance were laid out north and south across from our house. We kids all watched as the well-rehearsed roustabouts quickly drove stakes, put up the center poles, laid out the big canvas and erected the big main tents. Then the seats were quickly assembled, and the side canvas secured. Other crews meanwhile were putting up the Midway tents and a menagerie tent, if the circus was big enough to have one. Inside the main tents, circus aerial wire walkers, and acrobats would be carefully erecting the equipment their lives depended upon. They performed at least twice each day.

A few circuses had “Wild West” shows after the main performance. I remember seeing one of my favorite western actors, Hoot Gibson, as a featured star in one show with his beautiful horse. How lucky can a young lad be?

Everything was usually ready to go by 11 a.m., with the first performance at 2 p.m. Since the Depression was affecting every household, the admission fees were very modest.

From Remembering, the newsletter of the Conneaut Historical Society

March, June, 2004

Three More Views of Tyler’s Trough

The Pause that Refreshes!
A drink of cool, clear water makes the trip much easier.
The Tyler Watering Trough on Old Main Road Hill. Placed in 1896, many a horse, rider, wagoner, and foot traveler enjoyed a pause that refreshed after a long, steep, climb. In 2002, it was sold to a private owner who moved it from Conneaut to the dismay of many Conneaut residents.

Thanking Veterans

(In living our daily lives, we often forget the people who sacrificed their lives to give us the freedom to live ours as we desire. Conneaut has a rich patriotic tradition from people on the home front as well as those fighting wars in distant places. We will feature a few of their stories from their respective wars. If you have a veteran you would like to be featured or are a veteran with story to tell, contact

Photo by Holly Mindrup

Dog Tags

Ageless, endless, Partner of war,

Dangling life and death – cold metal core,

Number and letters etched and aloof,

Until someone reads them for person proof!

Robert Goldsmith Recalls Days of Being POW

Wednesday, May 27, 1998

Conneaut, Ohio
Sincerely Marge   by Marge Tuttle (Gazette)

Although much time has gone by since the ending of World War II, the memories from that terrible era still remain in our minds. In this war, any men from our town and the surrounding area were involved and remember the experiences they will never forget. Three very well- known fellows from our town spent much time in German prison camps, and they remember well the hardships they endured while they were there.  They are Jack Sanford, who was at one time Conneaut Police Chief; Charles (Chuck) Marcy, a former Conneaut businessman; and Robert Goldsmith, who is well known by either Bob or Goldie.  He is now retired and owns and operates his antique shop on West Main Road.

At this time I would heartily like to say “thank you” to Bob Goldsmith for his utmost cooperation with me on the writing of the following true story!

When Bob joined the Armed Forces he was sent to various training camps. Upon bis request, he was trained as a ball turret gunner. This meant his position would be in the under belly of the B17 Flying Fortress.

His training took place at various locations before he was scheduled to go overseas by way of a six day cruise on the Queen Mary.

In 1943, Bob landed in Scotland, then was sent for training near London, where he joined a part of the 8th Air Force, and received training over and around England’s countryside.

On his first mission over Germany, his faulty oxygen mask caused him so much trouble he was hospitalized for two weeks.  In February 1944, Bob was once more in action with his plane and crew and given the target of an assembly plant in western Poland.  This mission was not successful due to weather conditions (cloud cover) so was ordered to make a return trip two days later.  On this trip they endured severe enemy bombing, badly damaging their B17.  When the engines burst into flames, they knew that jumping was all that was left to do.

At this point, he disconnected all of his equipment and made his way into the body of the plane. He was all set to be first to jump when he discovered a faulty buckle on his suit and motioned to drop back to the fellow behind him. When it came his turn, he noticed the gigantic hole in their wing, the result of an enemy 20MM cannon round that hit them.   

As Bob floated down on his first parachute mission, he was glad to see land instead of water as he had no idea where he was or what was coming up next. As he landed in a treetop, he saw a German guard with a gun in hand, pointed at him. Then there were more with guns and vicious dogs with looks on their faces that were anything but kind.  When the rest of the crew was rounded up, they were taken inside for interrogation. However, the pilot was missing.  He was said to have been shot to death as he tried to escape into a nearby woods.

The next move was a train ride to Southern Germany, and due to a schedule mix up, the whole crew was put into a local jail and in solitary confinement with rats for company. The prisoners were moved many times, each with another method of travel, from train compartments to being herded into boxcars. Conditions in these boxcars were terrible and lasted five to six days. During that time, there was the threat of our bombers all around which mounted their fear of being blown up by their own allies.

From this horrible journey, they were again put in solitary confinement.

When they finally reached the last POW camp, they joined many from other countries and began to receive Red Cross packages, which had some warm clothing, cigarettes, Spam, candy, and powdered milk. These, along with the POW diet of dried cabbage, turnips, a few potatoes, and horse meat soup was all they had to eat. Many lost a lot of weight.

Some of the fellows at this camp put together a makeshift radio from parts they bribed from the guards in exchange for American cigarettes, which were obtained from the Red Cross packages. With this they could get a bit of war news now and then.

As the Russians came closer, Bob’s camp was moved into the hold of an abandoned Japanese freighter. This was an awful experience as they all wee herded into the hold, packed together with the fear of being blown up.

Next, they were again packed into boxcars and sent to a camp near Berlin. Here, they were chained together in pairs and forced to march in the extreme cold for a long distance with German youth guards in command under the orders of a captain who was full of hate for them. He enjoyed such treatment as jabbing the buttocks and legs of the stragglers. They all feared the vicious unmuzzled dogs, as they knew if they fell behind it might mean death. Bob had a hard time as he also had to help his partner who had extremely sore feet. Here, rations were drastically reduced, and no mail came through from home.

At this camp, the Gestapo was in charge and would do all sorts of nasty things. One would be to hold inspection any time or night or day. They would tear everything to bits while the prisoners stood out in the cold. They then turned the lights out at night so they couldn’t see to put them back together.

Their next move was to a new camp where Bob joined some of his commanding officers.  Here, food was rationed even more as the Germans faced the fact that they were losing the war. A loaf of bread had to be split seven ways, and a fellow was lucky if he got any at all. Here, no Red Cross packages were received.

In April of 1945, when the Russians liberated their camp, it meant any changes for all of the men there. The drunken and trigger happy Russians made our boys uncomfortable, and even though they enjoyed viewing the countryside around them, they returned to the camp each night.

Each day they awaited the sight of our B17s to fly in after them, and what a sight is was when they did and then flew them to an airfield in France. Here, they boarded an old Liberty Ship for an 11 day trip home.

What a wonderful feeling it was for Bob Goldsmith to see that sign “Conneaut, Ohio” and pick up life again as he wanted to live it.

(His obituary in the Ashtabula Star Beacon says that after the war Bob Goldsmith went the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts and In the 50’s actively painted local water color scenes. In the 70’s he started an antique shop in his father’s former Shell Gas Station on Rt. 20 in Conneaut. He retired from Union Carbide on June 30, 1981 after 25 years of service. He died Thursday, October 26, 2017, and he is buried in Glenwood Cemetery, Conneaut.)

The Tale, Tragedy, and Timelessness of Tyler’s Trough, Conneaut Ohio

The Tale…

By1870, Civil War Veteran John B. Tyler had moved to Conneaut from his native New York, bringing his wife Emma Jane, their children and his driver skills with him. They settled on a farm near the Old Main Hill Road leading through the gorge that Conneaut Creek had carved with centuries of swiftly running water. John set to work farming, driving teams for himself and his neighbors while Emma Jane kept house and helped John make their farm prosper. The couple’s children included Richard, Mary, Hal, Edna, and August.

 After a sojourn in Chicago during the 1880s, John B. and his family returned to the farm in Conneaut. Even in the 1880s, Chicago had acquired the characteristics of a big city with tall buildings, and John B. and his family may have compared the height of Chicago buildings with the depth of the Conneaut Creek gorge snaking through the Old Main Hill Road.

As John worked through his farming days, he often interrupted his duties to help water the teams of horses that toiled up and down the Old Main Hill Road. A spring of sparkling, fresh water bubbled near the road and their drivers stopped to let the tired horses enjoy a drink of fresh water. Their destinations were a mixture of local trips and long-distance hauls to Buffalo or Chicago, because Old Main Road was a connecting thoroughfare between the two cities.

In 1896, John B., possibly with the help of his neighbors and thirsty teamsters, built wooden troughs to collect the spring water for horses and people passing up and down the steep hill. He began his plan of piping the spring water to the wooden troughs at the top of the hill by drilling eight feet into the ground, where he struck a bubbling spring branch. Then he laid a three-inch pipe to a well near his home just a stone’s throw away. He and his helpers built a wooden water trough measuring about four feet high and six feet wide, and then they piped water from the Tyler well to the wooden troughs.

It did not take John long to realize that that wooden troughs fell short of his expectations. Horse and wagon traffic and large lumber wagons rolling down the hillside jarred or bumped into the troughs and soon they showed signs of location damage. One day, a wagon hit a trough and it crashed into the gorge. John B. made up his mind to build a permanent water trough that could withstand wagons and people. He eyed a six by eight-foot boulder lying at the bottom of the hill and decided that would solve his problem.

An October 20, 1937, story in the Conneaut News Herald detailed John B’s next move. He hired West Springfield, Pennsylvania, builder Adele Hubbard to help him wrestle the rock the approximately sixty-five feet to the top of the hill. The two men borrowed two capstans and a hydraulic jack from Conneaut Harbor and after placing a jacket around the rock and using skids, they attempted to pull the boulder to the top of the hill. Their first two attempts came within a stone’s throw of success, but just as it reached the top of the hill, the boulder wobbled and then thundered back down the hill. On their third try, the men successfully settled the boulder at the top of the hill.

Then John B. Tyler’s son Richard (Dick) hired Charles Ferson Patterson, a stonecutter, to hollow out a basin in the rock for a water trough. Charles Patterson could not use dynamite because it would shatter the rock, so he decided to use chisels. After days and days of tedious, often back bending labor, he stood surveying a hollowed-out basin capable of holding enough spring water to satisfy thirsty horses and people. Charles Patterson and his wife Mary Adella and their children lived in Conneaut, and with many other visitors, they often stopped to enjoy his stone cutting handiwork at Tyler’s Trough. Many people finger- traced the letters that Charles Patterson had chiseled into the side of his creation:  J.B. Tyler 1896.

The caption under this picture stated that the Tyler’s Trough located on the eastern bank of the Gulf had once been a popular stopping place for people and horses to enjoy refreshing spring water. Time and re-routing had made the Old Main Route obsolete, but the trough was a community landmark and a fitting memorial to hard working citizens who helped built Conneaut. [1] 

For the next two decades or more, people and horses made traditional stops at Tyler’s Trough, and it became a loved landmark for Conneaut and Ashtabula County residents. Time flows like the spring water in Tyler’s Trough. As the horse and buggy jogged through the first decades of the Twentieth Century to meet the speeding automobile, Tyler’s Trough became olden times instead of an oasis. By 1924, the new Route 20 viaduct allowed traffic to bypass the stretch of Old Main Road where Tyler’s Trough had rested for so many years and it became less visible or remembered to passersby. Less visibility and the rising popularity of the automobile left Tyler’s Trough a solitary sentinel landmark on the hill, marked by graffiti, hidden in weeds and buried in memories. A great granddaughter of Charles Patterson, Mary Jane Jarvi and her daughter routinely weeded and watched over Tyler’s Trough and its now quiet neighborhood.

Time continued to flow like the spring water in Tyler’s Trough. Charles Ferson Patterson died in 1905 and he and Mary Adella are buried in Glenwood Cemetery in Conneaut. John B. Tyler died in 1911 and is buried in East Conneaut Cemetery. Dick Tyler died in 1952 and is buried in Glenwood Cemetery in Conneaut.

Eventually, new owners acquired the Tyler farm, and with it, Tyler’s Trough. In 2002, the new owners sold Tyler’s Trough to someone who moved it from the spot where John B. Tyler, Dick Tyler, Adele Hubbard, Charles Patterson, and probably helpers whose names have been swallowed up in history worked so hard to homestead it.[2]

Another great granddaughter of Charles F. Patterson, Kathy Grice Horwood, added more details to the story of Tyler’s Trough in a speech at the Conneaut Area Historical Society in the 1990s. The Society’s newsletter, Remembering, printed her story that she called “The Tyler Watering Trough.” Kathy’s version of the story has it that George A. Hubbard, a builder from West Springfield, told John B. Tyler about a huge stone that he had seen that would make a perfect trough for thirsty horses. The stone weighed twenty tons and measured nine ½ x 8x 5 ½ feet, so it presented an equally enormous challenge.

John B. Tyler hired George Hubbard to move the stone, a task that included lifting the stone sixty feet out of the gorge and settling it firmly on the roadside. John B. and George Hubbard had to obtain heavy timbers to make a track and use tackle blocks. John B. had to put in three loads of cobbles, three loads of boulders, and a dressed stone surface for the foundation so the stone would fit snugly into its berth and not roll down the hill. An opening large enough for someone to get under the stone and connect all of the pipes had to be left in the center of the foundation so the pipes could be hooked up to a spring to provide fresh cool water. John B. Tyler hired a Mr. Allyn to properly connect the pipes to the spring.

Next, John B. Tyler hired Charles Ferson Patterson, a mason, to create a trough from the huge boulder. Charles Patterson spent weeks chiseling the stone until he had scoured a basin four feet, five inches by five feet nine inches by two feet six inches to form the trough. Charles Patterson built a small shanty over the stone, working over ten weeks including all winter to create his trough. He completed the job and J.B. Tyler paid him $125.00. As a bonus and a good will gesture, Charles Patterson carved “J.B. Tyler 1896” into the side of his new creation.

 Fran Blickensderfer of Conneaut, a long time Historical Society member, drew this picture of Tyler’s Trough in 1991 for note cards that the Society sold at the Depot Museum.[3]

The final chapters of the Tyler’s Trough story continue the tradition of differing details and ultimately sad events with an ending that John B. Tyler and Charles F. Patterson might not have imagined.

The Tragedy…

Two stories in the Ashtabula Star Beacon detailed the fate of Tyler’s Trough in the first decade of the Twenty First Century. In the March 2002 Star Beacon story, Staff Writer Mark Todd wrote that neighbors reported that on Sunday afternoon Tyler’s Trough had been hauled away from the hillside it overlooked since 1896. A neighbor who checked on the trough, located on Old Main Road, Conneaut, every day since the sale confirmed that a crew took the boulder Sunday afternoon. The crew toiled an hour to remove the trough, estimated to weigh more than twenty tons.

Last week, Conneaut resident Cheryl Taylor, owner of the land where the trough rests, confirmed that she had sold the rock to an unnamed Ashtabula County resident who planned to use it as a memorial to his ailing wife.

Ed Wharton, president of the Conneaut Area Historical Society, said that everyone was upset. “There is now a big hole in our history. More than one hundred years of our history is gone,” he said. President Wharton and other Historical Society members were upset because the previous owner did not give them a chance to buy the trough or make other arrangements to keep it in town. “We’re disheartened the move couldn’t be put on hold for a few days,” he said.

President Wharton added that local officials, including State Representative George Distel, Democrat, Conneaut, had been asked to help. Ward Councilman Richard Showalter, whose jurisdiction includes the land where Tyler’s Trough rested, remarked that “it was taken out with no consideration for our community.” He said that he had contacted state officials and agencies when he learned that the trough had been moved. “I was disappointed not more had been done to stop the move until we had our ducks in a row,” he said. Council President James Lauer said he visited the spot where the trough had rested and had discovered no damage to the road or right of way. “You could go by and not realize any heavy equipment had been there,” he said.[4]

In a follow up story in the Ashtabula Star Beacon of May 31, 2002, Staff Writer Mark Todd pinpointed the whereabouts of Tyler’s Trough. According to Staff Writer Todd, local historians discovered Tyler’s Trough a few dozen miles south of Conneaut. It had been sold and relocated in March 2002, and now resided on private property around Garrettsville and West Farmington. They located a relative of one of the men hired to move the massive stone and eventually found it.

  Ed Wharton, president of the Conneaut Area Historical Society, said that the stone sat close to the road allowing Historical Society members to identify it without trespassing. “We have photos. The name and date etched into the stone is visible. It is the trough.”

Conneaut Area Historical Society members are planning to meet with the owner to see if they can negotiate the return of the stone. According to some reports, the new owner collects watering troughs and has a large display of them on his property. According to President Wharton, Historical society members learned the owner paid $5,000 for the trough and another $3,000 to have it relocated. Members will seek donations if they get a chance to buy back the stone. “We do not know if the person who has its knowns its historical value. He may not talk to us. Once it has left the area, it is going to be tough to get it back,” President Wharton said. [5]


Conneaut Area Historical Society President Ed Wharton’s 2002 words proved to be prophetic. In 2022, Tyler’s Trough still has not returned to rest comfortably on the Old Main Hillside of its birth and its creators John B. Tyler and Charles Patterson would be astonished to read the latest chapters in its story. John B. Tyler conceivably would pause in his planning, just momentarily and Charles Patterson, would lay down his chisel, but not for long and inquire as to the nature of the Facebook chapters of the Tyler Trough story.

More than a decade after the sale of Tyler’s Trough some of the latest chapters in its story have been written on Facebook, a medium that would have astonished its creators. Or perhaps they would not have been astonished after all. In 1896, radio telegraphy had already been invented and telephone, telegraph and automobile technologies were improving as speedily as the newfangled typewriter keys could produce a word. By 2018, Tyler’s Trough had been discussed, dissected, and debated on Facebook and advocates had created the Historic Old Main Stone Trough campaign, to restore Tyler’s Trough to its original home.

Why has the story of Tyler’s Trough endured through the Nineteen, Twentieth and into the Twenty First century? Some of the important reasons for its timelessness are community, continuity and civic and historical pride.

John B. Tyler and Charles Patterson considered community important enough to reach outside of their private lives to contribute what they could to the betterment of their community and their fellow citizens. Tyler’s Trough as a Conneaut community asset provides continuity between generations of citizens transcending the differences of time and technology and creating a connective sense of pride for the contributions their community has made to history.

Every community, whether it is located in a small town, large city, or the wider world, has an icon that expresses pride in community, whether it is a ground hog like Punxsutawney Phil, a gigantic wooden chair outside a town that manufactures chairs, or a stone watering trough on the top of a steep hill. When people stop in their weary tracks before they reach the top of their individual hills, the image and actuality of a Tyler’s Trough provides hope and history in the guise of a long, refreshing drink of water.

[1] From a story in the Conneaut News Herald, October 20, 1937.

[2] Information taken from Federal Census Records and Cemetery Records.

[3] From a speech given by Kathy Grice Horwood at the Conneaut Area Historical Society several years ago.

[4] Ashtabula Star Beacon, March 12, 2002

[5] Ashtabula Star Beacon, May 31, 2002

Raymond Welsh, Historian, Musician, Timekeeper, Poet, Dedicated Conneaut Citizen

When Raymond Welsh was Young and Old and Contributing to Conneaut

Raymond Welsh, Historian

When Conneaut was Young

The Mail

Twice a day the mail carrier passes the home of Betsy and Jack with his sack of letters, magazines and parcels.  Historian Welsh was wondering if the youngsters knew how differently mail was carried in the early part of the 19th century, so he decided to tell them about the development of the postal service here.

For a few years after Conneaut was settled, there were no mail deliveries to this part of the county. It was not until 1803 that the first mail route was established, and this did not include delivery to Conneaut. It was five years later, in 1808, that Conneaut was given its first postal service.

How pleased the pioneers were with this service. The mail was carried on foot for several years until a carrier was hired to carry the mail from Ashtabula to Buffalo on horseback. In fair weather he made the round trip in twelve days, and in rainy, muddy weather it took fourteen days.

In spite of the poor roads, the early mail carriers managed to make their trips regularly, arriving at the various stations along the route with remarkable punctuality, although there were times that they had to swim the creeks to get the mail through on time.

In 1817, a change was made to carry the mail by stagecoach and Conneaut then received two mails a day, one from the east and one from the west. This service continued until 1852, when the railroads took over carrying the mail.

On October 12, 1929, the airport north of east Conneaut was dedicated and the first airmail was carried out of Conneaut by airplane.  On April 25, 1932, the new post office was dedicated at the corner of State and Broad Streets.

When Conneaut was Young

Indians and Early Settlers

At last Betsy and Jack were through with their evening work and they rushed in to see if Uncle Lem was ready to give them another story of the days when the pioneers first came to Western Reserve. Sure enough, the old man was seated in bis easy chair beside the fireplace waiting for his evening audience of two.

“One day 70 years ago, an old settler told me what the first white setters had found when they arrived in Conneaut after their long hard journey from the east.  I wounder if you’d like to hear about it. All right, then., I’ll tell you what that man told me long years ago when I was just a small boy.  

Where the business section of our town is now located, the first white men found a small village of Massasauga Indians. The word Massasauga means” mouth of a great river.” Their chief’s name was Macqua Medah which is an Indian word meaning “Bear Oil.” These Indians had built between 30 and 40 rude cabins in which they were living when the white men arrived. These cabins were roughly put together and were made of logs with large chunks of bark for roofs.

Chief Bear Oil came to the white men one day and ordered them to keep off a certain spot of ground under penalty of being scalped. The whites were curious to know why they were forbidden to walk on this particular piece of ground and were informed that it was the place where the Chief’s mother was buried. It was these Massasauga Indians that were found living here in the spring of 1798 when Aaron Wright, Levi and John Montgomery, Nathan and John King, Robert Montgomery and Samuel Bemis, the first permanent white settlers arrived.

One day there came to this white settlement which had been built along Conneaut Creek, a man named Williams who sold a rifle to one of the Indians. Williams was to receive in payment a certain number of pelts and had agreed to wait until the Indian could collect them. After making the bargain with the young red man, Williams changed his mind, returned to the Massasauga village and without the consent of the Indians, took the gun from the young hunter who prized it highly and who had intended to fulfill his part of the agreement. When the rifle was taken away from him in such an unfair manner, the Massasaugan  became very angry with the white man, and one day when Williams was passing along the trail west of the village,  the young Indian murdered him.

A white officer and a few guards from Presque Isle (Erie) came to Chief Bear Oil soon after and demanded that the Chief turn the murderer over to them for punishment. The old Indian refused to do so, and the officer and his men returned to their quarters for more guards as their party was far outnumbered ty the Indians of the village.

After the white men had departed, Chief Bear Oil and his tribe launched their canoes and paddled up Lake Erie to a place where the City of Sandusky now stands. When the officers returned from Presque Isle, they found the Indian village deserted. The Massasauga left Sandusky not long afterward and settled along the Wabash River in Indiana, never returning to their village on Conneaut Creek where they had lived in peace until the arrival of the white men.

(More “When Conneaut Was Young,” features and poems and music by Raymond Walsh to follow.)

Conneaut’s Grand Old Lady Celebrated Her Life with Her Adopted Community

The Conneaut Harbor of Dorcas Welch Jones in 1910, when she celebrated her  102nd birthday.  Her son, Paul Jones, was a harbor fisherman.

April 21, 1909 – Happy 101st Birthday

Mrs. Dorcas Welch Jones, who lives in Conneaut with her son Paul and his wife Caroline at 615 Buffalo Street Extension, included celebrating her 100th birthday on her list of life wishes.  She achieved that goal on April 21, 1908.  Twelve months later, on April 21, 1909, she celebrated her 101st birthday feeling healthier and stronger than she had on her century birthday.

To commemorate her 101st birthday, “Grandma Jones,” as many of her friends and neighbors affectionately call her, took special pains combing her hair vigorously and slipping into her best black dress. She can dress herself and comb her hair and takes great pride in knowing that she is not a burden to her son and his wife. On this day, her birthday, she took special pains combing her hair and putting on her best black dress. She walked down the stairs alone, her heart beating with excitement, anticipating the visits of old friends and acquaintances who were coming in later to reminisce and share her birthday joy.

After breakfast, she opened the many postcards, cards, and letter from friends wishing her a blessed and joyous birthday. When the anticipated and welcomed guests filed through the house throughout the day, she greeted each one with a smile, a handshake and pleasant conversation.  

Family and friends noted that although Mrs. Jones had marked her 100th year, her faculties all remain finely tuned. The only exception is a slight decline in hearing the past year, that merely requires a slightly higher pitch of voice tone on the part of the speaker to enable her to understand the words perfectly.

Her memory remains excellent, and she recalls events that happened many years ago as well as remembering events of a year ago better than the ordinary person. Always fond of reading, she still reads often and since she recaptured her second sight 30 years ago, she does not need to wear glasses.

After suffering a sick spell two years ago, she began to walk with a cane, but she uses it effectively and gets around at a lively pace. She can climb up and down stairs alone as she had done on this birthday morning, and in fact, she could move around most places by herself. She said she felt as well today as on her birthday a year ago. Up until her sickness of two years ago, Grandma Jones spent much of her time sewing, and made most of her own clothes. After she recovered from her illness, she has lost her enthusiasm for sewing and has not used her needle very often in the last year.

Ordinarily, Mrs. Jones does not come downstairs in the morning; instead, she eats breakfast and lunch in her room, especially enjoying her milk. Grandma Jones loves milk, and it is one of her chief dietary pleasures. At night she sleeps with a glass of milk on a chair beside her bed, and often tops off a light midnight lunch with a glass of milk. She always dresses for dinner, looking forward to coming downstairs to enjoy a meal with her son, Paul, his wife Caroline, and whoever else is sitting at table. The 1870 Federal Census identifies Paul’s occupation as a fisherman and a hotel keeper and lists his wife Caroline, their daughter, Lydia, and three or four fisherman living with him.

Grandma Jones assured everyone that she felt as well or better on this birthday as she had on her birthday a year ago.

Longevity Creates Long History

Dorcas Welch was born in Marcellus, New York on April 21, 1808. She was the daughter of Daniel Welch. One of the several record discrepancies chronicling her life indicates that Daniel’s death certificate lists him as being from Vermont, but a Find-A-Grave Memorial (100709384) shows a Daniel Welch, born in Connecticut and buried in New York.

Longevity ran through the family tree of Dorcas Welch like Lake Erie waves. Her mother died at age 96. Her five brothers all lived to be over 90 years old and one of her sisters lived to be over 90 years old. She had a niece living in Auburn, New York who had reached the age of 82 years.

When Dorcas Jones was just four years old, the War of 1812 began, a conflict that would include her future husband. Henry Jones fought in the War of 1812 against British aggression in the fledgling United States.  Henry returned to Marcellus after the War of 1812, he and Dorcas Welch were married in 1827. In later years when she lived in Conneaut Dorcus would be one of the few widows in the country who received a War of 1812 pension, drawing his $55 pension for his service in the War of 1812. She always walked to town to draw her pension until about 1907. In 1830, their son Dwight was born, and their son Paul arrived on July 10, 1841 in Westfield, New York. The couple also had a daughter who died at an early age.

The 1855 New York State Census shows Henry Jones, 60, as head of the household; Dorcas Jones, 47, wife; Dwight Jones, 25, son; and Paul Jones, 15, son.

Fifteen years later, the 1870 United States Federal Census revealed that Henry and Dorcas Jones were living in Conneaut, Ohio, with their son, Paul, his wife, Caroline, and their daughter seven-year-old Lydia. Between 1870 and 1880, Henry died. The 1880 Federal Census lists Dorcas Jones as a widow living in Conneaut with her son Paul, her daughter-in-law Caroline, and their daughter Lydia. The record shows that on June 8, 1889, Dorcas filed a widow’s pension in Pennsylvania for Henry’s Civil War service in Company B of the 2nd Pennsylvania Cavalry.

The next two decades Dorcas lived peacefully with her son Paul and daughter in law Caroline. She celebrated her 105th birthday on April 24, 1913. The Carey Times of April 24, 1913, reported that Mrs. Dorcas Jones, the oldest inhabitant of Ashtabula County celebrated her 105th anniversary. The story said that her mental condition was good, “but she is frail physically and, on this account, did not hold her customary reception. She is able to see only her near relatives.”

Dorcas’s near relatives included her son Paul, daughter in law Caroline, two grandsons, Frank and Harry Jones, a granddaughter Mrs. W.W. Grant, and a great granddaughter Ruby Grant.

Conneaut Celebrates the Eternal Life of Dorcas Welch Jones

A New York Times story and stories in the local papers reported the next chapter in the life of Dorcas Jones.  The New York Times of October 25, 1913  pqge 13, noted that Mrs. Dorcas Jones, thought to have been the oldest woman in Ohio, died yesterday in Conneaut. She celebrated her 105th birthday last April 21st. The whole town will participate in the funeral ceremonies on Sunday.

The local Conneaut paper ran this story.

Grand Old Lady” of Conneaut Expired Last Night Without Warning – A Remarkable
Woman Who Retained Her Faculties to the Last.

“Grandma” Dorcas Jones, the ‘grand old lady’ of Conneaut, and one of the oldest women in the United States passed on at 4 o’clock yesterday afternoon. The end came suddenly, without premonitory indications. The flame of life died out without a flicker to signalize its extinction.

Mrs. Jones’ niece, Mrs. W. W. Grant had sent her supper to her room and the family then partook of their evening meal. After supper one of the family went upstairs after the dishes. Mrs. Jones was seated on the edge of the bed just finishing her repast, and suddenly expired.

The old lady had been in her usual health up to the time of her death, and was able to be up and around the room daily. She continued to dress and undress herself and comb her beautiful hair, of which she was very proud, and notwithstanding her great age her mental faculties were not noticeably impaired.

She was tenderly cared for by her son, daughter-in-law, and niece, who regarded her in the light of a rare jewel on account of her personality, her great age and remarkable preservation apart from the natural affection.

Dorcas Jones was almost a public character in the attention paid her by the community. She was a guest of honor on Memorial days, Old home Days and other public affairs up to within the past two years and she enjoyed and appreciated these honors thoroughly. She was especially interested in all matters pertaining to the G. A. R. and other organizations of veterans.

The death of Dorcas Jones hardly seems credible to the people of Conneaut, who somehow seemed to believe that she had found the fountain of eternal youth and had passed beyond the dominion of Death. Her recovery from pneumonia three years ago and the fact that each year found her apparently no nearer dissolution, strengthened this feeling.

Her private funeral services were held at the home of her son, Paul and daughter in law Caroline Jones, on Buffalo Street on Sunday, October 2, 1913, at 2 p.m. Reverend F.L. Johnson officiated and she was laid to rest in East Conneaut Cemetery.

Elisha Farnham and His Grandson Otis Abbott Fuller, Proprietors of Farnham, Fuller, and South Ridge Mills

Elisha Farnham

Elisha Farnham was of Puritan origin. His father  and grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. He was born in Hampton, Connecticut on June 8, 1806, the sixth in a family of ten children. His parents were Thomas and Abigail Farnham. He acquired a good common school education. Since he was the oldest son, he had to go to work early to help support the family. He learned the machinists trade and was a skillful workman. In the fall of 1830, he packed his worldly possessions in a knapsack and came to Conneaut, settling on land by Conneaut Creek.

After the completion of his education he entered a machine shop in Pittsburg, and coming to Ohio about the year of 1825, journeying by stage from Pittsburg, he with Thomas Gibson bought the mill which had been built years before by a Mr. Jones. In time Elisha Farnham bought his partner’s interest in the enterprise, and also built in 1841 the mill now owned by Mr. O. Fuller.

 Before 1878 the dam for this mill was some distance further up the stream than at present, the overflow compelling a change of location, and the son Patrick erected two new dams in 1878, and these are still in use, as is also the mill, the only one now operated by waterpower on Conneaut creek.

Mr. Farnham married first Mary A. Ring of Conneaut, Ohio, on November 14, 1833.  She died August 11, 1849. She is buried in Farnham Cemetery. On January 30, 1850, he was married to Mrs. Harriet A. Sanborn. The children who were all born from his first marriage were:

D. Alphonso, born Jun3 5, 1835. He married Sophia Brooks. He was a soldier in the Union Army during the Rebellion, and he died while in the service on January 22, 1862.  He is buried in Farnham Cemetery.

Flora, born June 12, 1837, married popular sheriff T.S. Young.

Elisha Farnham gave his attention to his mills, consisting of grist, saw and carding mills, and during a number of years he also filled the office of justice of the peace and was a supervisor and a member of the school board. His politics were Republican, and he had fraternal relations with the Independent Order of Odd Fellows. During the Civil war period he was connected with the “underground railroad,” and was an intimate friend of Ben Wade and of J. R. Giddings. At the time of his marriage he lived across the road from the present home of his son Patrick, and later built the house in which this son now lives.

His children were:

P. Henry born November 14, 1838.  Married May Mallory and lives in Conneaut.

May, born February 27, 1841, married Martin Reals.

Lydia E., born May 30, 1843, married C.L. Fuller, who is drowned in Lake Erie.

Emily, born September 21, 1847 married Waller B. Boss.

Mr. Farnham held many positions of trust and was for many years a township officer He was not only a worthy citizen but an obliging neighbor and an intelligent husband and father.

History of the Western Reserve, Volume 2 By Harriet Taylor Upton, Harry Gardner Cutler, Page 985

Grandson Otis Abbott Fuller, Sr. carries on the farnham milling tradition

Otis Abbott Fuller, Sr.

Prominent among the agricultural residents of Conneaut Township is numbered Otis Fuller, a member of a family which was founded in the community many years ago by Wesley Fuller who came from New York. He was the father of Asa; Maria; and Wellington. Asa Fuller was probably born in the East, about the year 1813 and he came with his parents to Ohio and landed in North Ridge. He always lived on a farm of which he owned several and his death occurred in 1885 when he had reached the age of 70 years.

His wife, nee Mary Ann Haviland, from Ohio died about three years later. Their family numbered the following children:

Cornell G. mentioned below. Omer, who died of typhoid fever just before his marriage was to take place; John W., who first married Emma Abbott and afterwards Julia Tinker Benton and he lives in Ashtabula, Ohio.

Willis a. married Effie Hardie and is a lumberman in Pierpont Township.

Vernon A. Whose first wife was Mary Hayward by whom he had one child. And his second wife Celia Hanson, by whom he had six children, lives in Port Huron, Michigan.

Herbert E married Ella Crosby and died in Houston, Texas.

Cornell G. Fuller was born in Monroe Township, Ashtabula County, Ohio, July 12, 1842 and he lived with his grandparents until his marriage on January 9, 1864 to Lydia E. Farnham who was born March 30, 1844. The children of this union are Otis A. and Jessie O, but the daughter died very young.

After their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Fuller moved to Sheffield Township, where the husband worked in the lumber business. Their home was afterward in Michigan for about three years and there Mr.  Fuller was drowned in Lake Huron while transporting lumber. This sad event occurring on September 20, 1875. He was a Republican in his political affiliation and Mrs. Fuller is a member of the Seventh Day Adventist Church.

Otis A. Fuller of the above family was born in Sheffield, Ohio on December 5, 1864 and his district school training was supplemented by study in the high schools of Titusville, Pennsylvania and Jefferson, Ohio. He lived with his grandparents in Kelloggsville before his marriage and moved with them to Conneaut.

He was engaged in operating the mill which was built by his grandfather Elisha Farnham in 1841.This is the only mill now in the Conneaut stream operated by waterpower. Years ago there were several water power mills in this stream. The mill contains four turbines and was formerly operated by a tub or scroll wheel.

Mr. Fuller married, March 21, 1884, Lila E. Goldsmith, who was born in Conneaut September 19, 1866.

Their children are:  Leila E. who married Clarence Leffenwell, engaged in the wholesale fruit business in Cleveland; Bessie W., a  bookkeeper at the creamery in Conneaut; Willis A. on the farm with his father; Cornell G., attending the Conneaut High School; Robert Lee, attending the District Schools, and Otis Abbott. Mr. Fuller, a Republican, has served his county  as a supervisor. He is a member of the American Insurance Union, of the Odd Fellows Fraternity and of the Lone Star Order of the Grange.  Mrs. Fuller is a member of the Baptist Church.

History of the Western Reserve, Volume 2.  Harriet Taylor Upton  Chicago:  Lewis Publishing Company, 1910

Otis Abbott Fuller

(The son of Lydia E. Farnham and Cornell Fuller)

Born:  December 5, 1864 in Conneaut, Ohio

He died January 13, 1959

Died in Columbia, South Carolina

Buried in Glenwood Cemetery, Conneaut

His father was Cornell Goldsmith Fuller

His spouse Lila Goldsmith Fuller

Children:  Leila E Fuller Leffingwell

Robert Lee Fuller

Bessie Johnson

Willis Arthur Fuller

Otis Abbot Fuller, Jr.

Otis’s wife was Lila Goldsmith Fuller. Captain Leverett Barker Goldsmith (1871-1943) was her brother.

The Byrd Snow Cruiser Passes Through Ashtabula and Conneaut on the Way to Antarctica



The Ashtabula Star Beacon published
November 4, 1939, reported the Snow Cruiser’s Ashtabula visit this way:

Moving slowly between lines
composed of thousands of thrilled spectators, the giant Snow Cruiser built for
the United States Antarctic Expedition, passed through Ashtabula shortly before
noon today.

After days of anxious waiting
to view the behemoth of the highway, the crowds had their curiosity satisfied. All through Friday night many had waited sending telephone calls of inquiry that swamped the Ashtabula telephone company switchboards, the Star Beacon Office, City Police Station, and the highway patrol headquarters.

It was 11:20 this morning when the big machine hove in sight at the westerly end of Prospect Road. The crowds that had waited since early morning and rushed for places along the curbs. The crowd was thickest at and in the vicinity of the Amoco Service Station at 1520 Prospect Road where the big machine stopped for ten minutes for a check up of gasoline and oil. Automobiles were parked on both sides of Prospect Road and
filled adjacent streets for blocks near the station and along Route 20 from Painesville to Conneaut.

Immediately after the checkup, the giant vehicle started to move on its way through the city passing along Prospect Road through Five Points and following Route 20 to Conneaut.

Greeted by City Manager

When the machine stopped at the Amoco Station, Dr. Thomas C. Poulter and other members of the crew were greeted by City Manager William H. Flower and members of the Star Beacon staff who were invited inside the Cruiser.

Halted at Painesville Friday by a broken oil line, the Cruiser was repaired and started from that place shortly before 9 this morning. Early Friday night, announcement was made that the Cruiser would pass through Ashtabula between 10 and 10:45. As soon as this fact was bulletined, the telephones began to jingle and automobiles began to fill Route 20 and adjacent streets, every vehicle on its way to claim a position along the route.

The crowd along city streets, estimated at 15,000 waited. Then came word of the mishap that delayed the Cruiser’s progress. All through the night until 2 a.m., telephone calls
continued, and the crowd waited patiently. Then at 1:30 a.m. word was received that the Cruiser would remain at Painesville overnight, the crowd started to thin out. But a few hopeful watchers remained in their position until along toward daylight fearing they would miss seeing the snowmobile.

At Erie Tonight

Dr. Thomas C. Poulter, chief of the research department at the Armour Institute of Technology at Chicago, who designed the machine, said the Cruiser would be taken to the General Electric Company plant at Erie where it would lay overnight, until two new motors were installed and steering gear was repaired. It is expected the vehicle will not
leave Erie on her way to Boston until Monday.

Dr. F.A. Wade, scientist of the United States Antarctic Expedition, who is a cousin of Mrs. W.W. Woodbury of Jefferson, was not aboard the craft when it arrived at Ashtabula. He was recalled Friday and was sent to Boston to take charge of packing the expedition’s equipment. Dr. Poulter said that Dr. Wade was disappointed because he had hoped to ride through this county where he has a number of friends, among them City Manager William H. Flower, who was a classmate of Dr. Wade at Western Reserve Academy, Cleveland.

Machine Held a Success

Despite difficulties encountered, Dr. Poulter, who is in charge of the Cruiser, said that he believed the machine was a successful engineering and scientific enterprise.
“When a pioneer project like this is constructed, it must pass through a period
of testing and experimentation,” Dr. Poulter said. “We are satisfied with the results and believe that the machine will prove of great value in Polar exploration.”

Passing Through Conneaut

On his Conneaut History website, Andy Pochatko features Albert Phillips reminiscing about the Snow Cruiser’s passage through Conneaut.

Conneaut. October 1939. Early snow and biting winds have reminded some of
the city’s residents of an event that attracted so much attention in October
1939 that traffic jams and even pedestrian jams resulted.

The occasion was the arrival of the Snow Cruiser part of Admiral Richard E.
Byrd’s Antarctic Expedition which passed briefly in the city, enroute from
Chicago to Boston where it embarked on its history -making cruise. The huge
mobile equipment caused considerable stir on its lumbering way.

Although residents were soon to become accustomed to the convoys of heavy
equipment as the war in Europe flamed into action, the approach of the awesome
looking behemoth was reason enough for many merchants along Main Street to lock
the doors of their establishments and hurry across town in the middle of the

Curious Line Streets

As the 75,000 pound cruiser powered by two rather uncommon diesel motors and
covering nearly the entire width of Route 20 rolled into the city, cameras
clicked like the frantic typing of an overworked secretary. Pedestrians lined
the streets, six deep at some points, and when the cruiser finally appeared at
the intersection of Harbor and Liberty Streets, the crush of curious humans
nearly overwhelmed the crew members.  Several of the more daring citizens
took advantage of the crews departure to a local restaurant to examine the
ponderous machinery more closely.

Forewarned of the pending arrival of the cruiser, a throng of motorists
jammed the streets of the city late the night before its actual arrival. Police
struggled with the crowds, which finally dispersed.  However, the police
were not finished with the spectators, for the curious citizens continued to
telephone the police station as well as the fire department and the newspaper
office for information regarding the slow approach of the vehicle. Pranksters
and wits took up the banner and the favorite approach of the anonymous caller
was, “I’m Admiral Byrd, where is my cruiser?”

As the city settled down to comparative calm the day after the celebrated
visit, Erie turned out to view the giant. There, a Boy Scout ovation was
extended to Boy Scout Paul Sipple whose grandparents resided in Kelloggsville.
Sipple had been selected to accompany Admiral Byrd on his expedition into the
unknown wastes of snow and ice.

Ashtabula Star Beacon, Conneaut 50 Years Ago

Sunday April 4, 2004 (The date on the page is the date that it was first
published in the

Conneaut Herald in October1954, not necessarily the same week or month of
Star Beacon date.)

Date of Snow Cruiser in Conneaut

October 1939

History of South Ridge Baptist Church, 2007

History of South Ridge Baptist Church

Information provided by the church

From the September 2007 Newsletter of the Conneaut Area Historical Society

Joan Barnett, Newsletter Editor     


On December 30, 1826, eight members organized the Free Will Baptist Church with Reverend Samuel Wise as their pastor. This meeting may have taken place in a schoolhouse then located in the cemetery on Center Road. In 1832, construction of a church building was begun, and in 1837 was finished at a cost of $2,000.

In 1839, a famous conference was held at the Free Will Baptist Church at South Ridge to determine the stand of the churches on the slavery question. At this conference, a minister was denied ordination because he owned slaves and afterward, “the South Ridge church, its pastor’s home and several other homes in the area became stations in the underground railway.” A vivid account of the part South Ridge played in aiding runaway slaves was written by pastor Rufus Clark sometime between 1851 and 1861.

In 1860, a bell forged in Cincinnati was installed. This bell, along with a memorial stained-glass window dedicated to South Ridge’s longest tenured pastor at the time, R.E. Benjamin, are the two remaining articles of the original edifice.

In 1891, the original brick structure was torn down and another structure built which stood until 1963. In 1911, the name was changed to South Ridge Baptist Church and in 1969, the church membership voted to disaffiliate itself with the American Baptist Convention. The historic white frame building was razed in 1963, when an educational building, fellowship hall, and kitchen were constructed north of the site and in 1972, the new auditorium, chapel and offices were dedicated. At the beginning of 1985, another addition of offices and conference rooms was completed.

In 1973, the South Ridge Christian Academy was founded, and a steel structure was erected housing classrooms, kitchen and gymnatorium. At this time, the old Farnham Elementary School and accompanying acreage, which borders the church property, were bought for additional classroom space and athletic fields.

In 1979, the South Ridge Bible Technical Institute was founded and later became Ohio Christian College, granting degrees in 15 fields of study. Also, in 1979,Conneaut’s FM radio station was bought and became another ministry of South Ridge. WGOOJ-FM now serves the area with 24-hour all Christian broadcasting. A Christian bookstore is located on the church property.

The church mortgage was burned on January 2, 1995, and the church became debt free. As of this year, current pastor, Dr. Roger P. Hogle, and his wife, Mottrie, have pastored the congregation for 41 years.

Conneaut Rails Across Lake Erie

Shadows slipping and sliding down the hill, following the slapping of the waves and the clanging of what? A ship bell? Muted voices float over the water. The slipping shadow materializes into the shape of a young girl. Springing to her feet, she walks the last few yards to the waiting schooner with her head held high and her heart beating in time with the waves. She proudly announces that her name is Ruth, as Captain Calvin Appleby holds out his hand. She takes it, walks up the gangplank and boards the Sultana. Ruth has started the last leg of her journey on the Conneaut Underground Railroad with the destination Canada and freedom.

Ruth symbolizes the many real fugitives who traveled over the maritime section of the Ashtabula County Underground Railroad. Conneaut, Ashtabula, and several of the other Ohio port towns on their way to Canada. Reaching Northern states like Ohio and port cities like Conneaut did not guarantee freedom for fugitive slaves. Slave catchers could and often did track them down and just as often would find willing northern accomplices who would turn in the fugitives for monetary award or simply because they believed that slaves were property instead of human beings deserving free lives of their own.

Hiram Lake and Ralph Wright are not anonymous, and neither is Ralph Wright’s community, South Ridge, later changed to Farnham and at one point in its history rivaled Conneaut in influence and population. The winds of Anti-Slavery shaped and transformed the slavery landscape in Ashtabula County, which had never been uniformly anti or pro slavery. Instead, the county was a mixture of Anti-Slavery, Pro-Slavery, and Neutral principles with its residents attempting to forge their lives through ideological flames and cooling neutrality.

The congregation of the Free Baptist Church stood a firm anti-slavery stance. The General Conference of Free Baptists took place at South Ridge, on October 23, 1839, with about 150 people attending the meeting and its aftermath. Dr. Wm. M. Housely from Kentucky had planned to be ordained as a Free Baptist, but he was rejected because he claimed three slaves and would not grant their right to liberty.

The General Conference extensively debated the slavery question. The church was crowded with diverse men and equally diverse opinions. Some counseled not to give so much light that it put out people’s eyes and injured the causes of both the Free Baptists and the slaves. Judge Moffit of Kelloggsville remarked that he knew Ohio people better than New England ministers and delegates and expressed concern that anti-slavery principles would bring disaster.

Lawyer Lovejoy of Conneaut, brother of Reverend Elijah Lovejoy of Alton, Illinois, spoke passionately for strong measures against slavery, arguing that it was a sin against God and a crime against man. He said that his brother’s blood was crying to slaveholders from the ground and that he would not be a dumb dog when lives were in such peril.

The Free Baptists voted to create a Conneaut Anti-Slavery Society, and the week after the General Conference adjourned, the people passed legislation establishing a preamble and constitution for the Society and began the work of feeding, clothing, and helping fugitive slaves escape to freedom. Free Baptists and citizens at large continued to defy the 1850 Fugitive Slave Law. Some Northern States had enacted earlier versions of the Fugitive Slave law, passed in 1850, that intensified the risks of helping passengers on the Underground Railroad. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 allowed authorities to arrest runaway slaves anywhere in the United States and return them to their owners. It also stipulated that anyone helping runaway slaves faced fines and jail time.

Despite, the strict stipulations of the Fugitive Slave Act, the Ashtabula Underground Railroad, including the Conneaut stations, continued to operate. As well as Ashtabula, the Conneaut versions of the Railroad had deep ideological roots and dedicated workers, including Captain Calvin Appleby, Reverend Rufus Clark, Hiram Lake, Ralph Wright, and countless anonymous workers.

Ralph Wright of the South Ridge Free Will Baptist Church could claim most of the credit for convincing many members of the larger community to change their pro-slavery views or neutrality to abolitionist principles. Ralph Wright earned the title of “Abolitionist Missionary” by soliciting abolition and slavery informational pamphlets. He would gather his pamphlets in hand and travel from house to house, and because of his impaired vision, his friends, and neighbors out of pity, would read the pamphlets to him. Farmers, mechanics, millers, merchants, ministers, anti and pro slavery people – people from all walks of life would read his pamphlets to please “Uncle Ralph.” Based on their reading of Uncle Ralph’s pamphlets, several of them became Abolitionists.

Often, Ralph Wright would express his desire to see slavery abolished, but would sadly conclude that “the way the government is ordering its course, I do not believe I shall.” Ralph Wright did not witness slavery’s demise in America. He died April 30, 1860, almost a year before the beginning of the Civil War, and he is buried with many of his fellow pioneering citizens in Farnham Cemetery. He did not see the fulfilment of his dream during his lifetime, but he helped lay the Anti-Slavery foundation allowing many former slaves to live out their lives in freedom.

In his younger years, Marshall W. Wright operated as an active conductor in the Underground Railroad. The sheriff had freed one of his passengers, Lewis Clark, from his master on the Lake-Ashtabula County line. According to a memoir by Reverend Rufus Clark, the authorities blocked the Lake County portion of the road so the coach carrying Lewis and his master would be forced to return to the Ashtabula line and enable the sheriff to make the arrest within his limits.

The Conneaut Anti-Slavery Society selected him as a representative to the Ashtabula County Liberty Convention held in Jefferson, Ohio.

In his later years, Marshall became active in Ashtabula County politics, including serving as a marshal and a director of the county infirmary.

Reverend Rufus Clark

Reverend Rufus Clark, pastor of the South Ridge Baptist Church at three different times, harbored fugitive slaves at his house, also the church parsonage, which was located directly north of the church. Conductors on this branch of the Underground Railroad would transport fugitives into Erie County Pennsylvania to the Gould brothers in Springfield Township. Here they were less likely to be confronted by slave catchers or people attempting to prevent them from crossing Lake Erie to


Reverend Clark and later William Siebert recorded the names of some of the fugitive slaves who eloquently pleaded the cause of their people at the organizational meeting of the Conneaut Anti-Slavery Society. Milton Clark had logged just a few years of freedom from Kentucky bondage. John Girley had endured nineteen years of slavery and celebrated nine years of freedom. Garrett Smith of Peterborough, New York sent him to school and John had learned his lessons so well that over a seven-year span, he lectured in nearly every free state in the United States. A Mr. Clarkson had enjoyed only three years of freedom, and Henry P. Riley and his wife observed seven y ears away from slavery. During this time, they attended school in Oberlin for six months and developed their speaking skills to tell their story and the story of their people.

Quakers assigned the name Thomas Clarkson of Albemarle County, Virginia this name because they were afraid slaveholders would capture him if they knew his real identity. During his escape from Albemarle County slaveholders captured him and read papers that the Commonwealth of Virginia issued demanding his return to slavery. Foreseeing the possibility of capture, Thomas had acquired a lead ball fastened to his right wrist which he used as a slingshot to ward off his pursuers who soon allowed him to escape. The eloquence of the former slaves in speaking against the nefarious slavery system and the zeal of their converts helped spread and deepen the Anti-Slavery sentiment in Ashtabula County.

Tried and True Tracks to Freedom

Figurative and sometimes literal dirt and wagon tracks of the Underground Railroad branched out east and west of South Ridge, and people willing to act on their moral convictions aided passengers all along the route. The depots along the Underground Railroad route centered at the homes of Jacob Henton, an elderly Quaker, and his brothers, who lived in Salem in Columbiana County. The fugitives then would go to Honorable Leicester King, who lived in Warren in Trumbull County and then to George Hazelop, a merchant in Gustavus. The homes of Seth Hazes, a Hartford merchant, and Ralph Plumb, Esq. in Vernon were the next stop. Deacon Carpenter and Ansel K. Garlick were the Andover safe havens. In Kelloggsvile Albert Kellogg, Sidney S. Bushnell and Samuel Hayward who later became President of the Conneaut Bank were at the ready to help fugitive and J.W. Wright and Reverend Rufus C. Clark served at South Ridge.

The quality and quantity of pursuit often determined the route that the conductors would assign to the fugitives. If a master hotly pursued the runway slave, conductors would sometimes find it necessary to change from a direct to a roundabout route. If this were the situation, the runways were sent to the houses of J. R. or Stephen Gage in Sheffield, Ira Taft in Kingsville, Jacob Austin in Austinburg, or William Hubbard in Ashtabula. After a period of rest and when the conductors felt it was safe, they were smuggled to Cleveland or Detroit to cross into Canada. If the conductors felt it was safer to send the fugitives to Buffalo, they were sent to the house of William and David Gould in Springfield, Pennsylvania and onward to Buffalo for the Canada crossing.

Sometimes as well as changing from a direct line, the conductors had to zigzag between lines to escape the slavecatchers. If the slavecatchers or masters captured a fugitive severe punished usually awaited at his or her former home. Punishments included branding, cutting off body parts, or shooting. Most severe and often fatal punishments included being hitched to a horse and dragged at galloping speeds over sharp stones and rough ground. Conductors and station masters on the Underground understood what fate awaited recaptured fugitives and they willingly faced mobs and penalties for aiding and abetting runaways to speed them along the Underground Railroad routes to Canada and freedom.

For nearly six years the Conneaut Anti-Slavery Society went about its work quietly and diligently, from October 23, 1839, to April 21, 1845. During those years, the Anti-Slavery cause gained in political momentum until Society members felt the necessity for definitive political action. At its last regular meeting on April 21, 1845, President and lawyer Benjamin Carpenter, Esq. presented a list of the names from the Society to serve as delegates to the Ashtabula County Liberty Convention to take place in Jefferson on May 6, 1845. President Carpenter read a list of the appointed delegates who were:  Edward P. Clark; Reuben Sanborn; M.W. Wright; S.A. Davis; A. Thompson; Reverend FW. Straight: Hiram Lake; A. Moulton; Reverend E.P. Dickinson; and Loren Gould. The Ashtabula County Liberty Convention marked the transition of the Society’s work into political action and its members concluded that the work of the last six years had accomplished its purpose and rendered the organization obsolete.

Memories and traces of the Underground Railroad have survived into 21st Century Conneaut. The South Ridge Baptist Church survives in modern form as does the Hiram Lake House. A church member and one of the fist members of the Conneaut Anti-Slavery Society, Hiram Lake lived his beliefs. A busy stop on the Underground Railroad, his house featured a trap door in the kitchen which led to a secret cellar underneath where slaves could hide to escape their pursuers.

Some documents and some traditional stories list the David Cummins Octagon House as another Conneaut Underground Railroad stop, although there is some controversy about the date it was built.

Some sources say that the Octagon House was built in 1860 when the Underground Railroad still operated. The house opened onto Conneaut Creek which runaways could follow to Lake Erie and a waiting ship to take them across to Canada. A room at the top of the house provided a lookout for slave catchers, although it could hold just two people at a time. Other sources state that the Octagon House was not built until 1863 or later, too late for the Underground Railroad and a house before it was the real hideout.

Once the fugitives arrived at the Lake Erie beach, the next step on the Underground Railroad turned watery. Often a sympathetic vessel captain waited for them having been notified of the cargo by sympathetic citizens, and the fugitives would be welcomed aboard and safely hidden until the vessel was underway. Sometimes informers would notify the slave catches of the human cargo departing from the docks and they would battle with the determined runaways and their allies. Sometimes smaller, private boats would carry the fugitives across Lake Erie to Canada and there are even stories about desperate runaways commandeering or accepting skiffs and canoes to navigate across the lake.

Underground Railroad conductors and like-minded lake captains worked together to keep the routes stretching across the lake to Canada. Many of their names are lost to history, but some have survived. Captain Calvin Appleby is recorded as a conductor on the Conneaut Underground Railroad. Born on August 17, 1808, in Bethlehem, New Hampshire, Calvin W. Appleby became fascinated with sailing at an early age and when his family moved to Conneaut in 1826, he quickly became familiar with Lake Erie currents and waves. He also built ships and later navigated them on Lake Erie, transporting passengers between Buffalo, New York, and Chicago, Illinois. The Indiana and the Sultana were two of his better-known ships.

Calvin Appleby adamantly opposed slavery and enjoyed a close friendship with Benjamin Wade and Joshua Giddings. He and frequently carried fugitive slaves from Conneaut and other lake ports to Fort Malden in Canada.

A story in the Conneaut Reporter of February 21, 1861, highlighted Captain Appleby’s anti-slavery stance. President Abraham Lincoln traveled by train through Conneaut, two weeks before his inauguration on March 4, in Washington D.C. He spoke to the assembled crowd from the train, telling them, “I have lost my voice and cannot make a speech, but my intentions are good.”

He thanked the people for the kindly demonstration and as the cars commenced to move slowly forward through the crowd which lined both sides of the track, Captain Appleby, our fellow townsman, called out to him, “Don’t give up the ship” To which Mr. Lincoln responded, “with your aid I ever will as long as life lasts”

Since he died on August 6, 1880. Captain Calvin Appleby’s life lasted longer than President Abraham Lincolns life, but he did not give up the ship, he gave over the ship to countless runaway slaves that he helped to freedom. He is buried in City Cemetery in Conneaut, near Lake Erie where he transported so many slaves to freedom on the watery last section of the Underground Railroad.