John Herzig was quite pleased with the latest addition to his ever-so-slightly notorious collection.
Higgins later gained fame as the movie mutt, “Benji,” and to Herzig, Inn’s story of a lifetime of rescuing dogs from euthanasia and boarding them until he could find them homes is one that deserves to be remembered. “He supported at least 2,000 animals,” Herzig says. When Higgins eventually died after a long and fulfilling life, Inn gave her funeral, and Herzig has the program.
On November 14, 1935, nearly 500 people, including local, state, and national dignitaries, gathered in the shadow of the municipal light plant on the west bank of the Great Miami River in Piqua to watch as a wooden pole was set into the ground.
Joslin grew up in Sidney, and moved to Wyoming after high school to be a sheep rancher. After six years, he returned to Ohio to farm, and in 1917, he helped found the Shelby County Farm Bureau, laying the foundation for cooperative action. Reserved but determined, Joslin became known for his ability to earn trust and get results — he was well known for his mantra, “Let’s get it done” — and in 1935 he was the county farm bureau’s president.
Sitting beside a small campfire, its woodsmoke scenting the cool air of a perfect autumn afternoon, I could almost see the scene as vividly as the man seated across from me described it.
The “my people” he speaks of — and traces his lineage to through one of his grandfathers, a full-blooded Native American — were a mixed-race group (modern-day anthropologists term it a “tri-racial isolate”) known as the Carmel Indians. They lived in Ohio’s Highland and Meigs counties until as recently as the early 1900s.
In the 19th century, Ohio held a crucial place in the national transportation system as Americans gradually gained access to wider and wider areas of the country.
As a result, busy inns and taverns sprouted all over, and quite a few of them are still in business today. These centuries-old establishments are rich in history — and in some cases, ghosts. Below, we have listed some of the more notable haunted watering holes in the state for anyone interested in dinner with the departed, or an overnight stay with the spirits.
19 E. Main St., Chillicothe
Dorothy Montgomery is old enough to remember when the men from “the REA” (in this case, Guernsey-Muskingum Electric Cooperative) started digging holes, by hand, to set electric poles along her country road after the creation of the Ru
Montgomery recalls the excitement that spread among her family and neighbors as more and more signed up to join the co-op to bring electricity to their homes and farms — which had previously been lit by oil lamps or “Aladdin lamps.”
There’s one detail in particular, however, that is still fresh in her mind to this day. “I remember the shock if you stuck your finger in the socket,” she says. She’d been told doing that would hurt — “and it did,” she confirms. “Oil lamps never shocked you.”
In the early 19th century, public city parks were virtually nonexistent. That doesn’t mean, however, that there was no green space in urban areas.
Ohio’s urban garden cemeteries are some of the country’s most distinctive memorial parks, and stunning examples can be found in nearly every population center. Here are three that are particularly outstanding and accessible.
Two weeks before he graduated from Lakeside High School in May 1912, Fred William Norton competed in the inaugural Ottawa County track meet.
Most kids of the day ended schooling and began working full-time after eighth grade. But Norton took a different path. He entered Lakeside High School (now Danbury High) in 1908. Along with track, he also competed in football, baseball, and basketball, and he carried a 4.0 academic average all four years there.
According to the Lakeside Heritage Society, he also worked for a local railroad, operating a locomotive and cleaning and repairing buildings and equipment. He often clocked 10-hour days, six days a week.
Where do the batteries go?” Ann Culek always smiles when she recalls the curious little boy who couldn’t figure out the workings of an old-fashioned marble run one afternoon in the farmhouse at Slate Run Living Historical Farm.
Operated by Columbus and Franklin County Metro Parks, the farm is part of Slate Run Metro Park, situated in the splendidly scenic countryside between Circleville and Canal Winchester. It’s a South Central Power Company member, but because the farm preserves the lifestyle of an era before electric cooperatives served rural Ohio, visitors never see so much as a light switch, let alone the modern office equipment that occupies the farmhouse’s second story.
France began its effort to colonize North America not too long after Christopher Columbus arrived here in 1492. At times between 1656 and 1750, in fact, France controlled more of the continental land mass than Britain and Spain combined.
Quebec, for instance, continues to be a Francophone island in English-speaking Canada that’s held steadfast to its language for hundreds of years. In spots of northern Maine, French is used as typically as English, and French-inspired poutine and ployes are as familiar on menus as burgers and pizza. The Cajuns of Louisiana still embrace their past with gusto and richness — so much so that the number of French-speakers in the bayou has actually increased in recent years. In Missouri, where St.
For more than 25 years, children have been bringing colored Easter eggs to the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Library and Museums (HPLM) in Fremont. Why?
Egg games were popular during the late 1800s, and in Washington, D.C., residents especially enjoyed spending Easter Monday on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol, where they picnicked and watched children rolling eggs — and often themselves — through the grass. After some rambunctious egg rollers damaged the landscaping in 1876, members of Congress promptly protected their turf by passing a law prohibiting people from using the Capitol grounds for a playground. Because it rained in 1877, the law wasn’t enforced until 1878, when police expelled youths carrying colored eggs from Capitol Hill.
