Be Still My Heart

Two cousins continued a tradition this Memorial Day.  One journeyed up from the south and the other down from the north.  They met each other in the middle, to visit together the graves of their ancestors.  But they added an extra stop this year, visiting the stone house that was in their family from 1901-1997.  

The cousins are on their respective ways back home right now. But they were kind enough to leave behind a memento of their family's years here.

That's the Einsel House, circa 1906.  The children are siblings, Carl and Norma Frankenfield.  The woman is probably their mother, Emma Frankenfield.

 For now this picture only graces the blog, but it's going to be framed and hanging on the dining room's west wall just as soon as I can get it enlarged and find an appropriate frame.

$268 and 40 Rounds of Buckshot

It's amazing what you can find on the internet.  It took a little digging, but look what I found:

(you'll need to read my last post to fully appreciate this)

That article was printed in August of 1938, which is actually 10-20 years more recent than I was expecting.

I also found a gem of an article from 1933 which related that a 15 year old local student was "suffering from extensive buckshot wounds" inflicted when our curmudgeonly neighbor "fired a shotgun at a group of boys in his melon patch."  Mr. Frankenfield didn't skimp on retaliation for raiding his garden.  "Twenty leaden pellets were removed from the boy's face and more than 20 more are still buried in his head, neck and arm, too deep, according to physicians, for removal....Physicians said he would recover unless complications arise."

Finding these articles made my day for several reasons.  Beyond the fact that the first article basically confirms the oral history as passed on by our octogenarian farmer, I'm also quite tickled to confirm the identity of our bachelor neighbor.  I smiled as soon as I read the name 'James Frankenfield'.  I was hoping it was him.  Although the Frankenfield name hasn't come up here at the blog in the past, Jim Frankenfield will play a starring role in my next house history post....

The Flack Years (1893-1900)

The beard belongs to one of my great, great, great grandfathers.  John Corrigan was born in Pennsylvania in 1833.  On October 8, 1847 a flood struck the Corrigan family's home in Morris Township, Huntingdon County.  One of John's most vivid memories would always be running back into his house as the flood struck to save his books, only to trip and drop them as he ran to higher ground.

John was the middle child of seven.  Trailing him by three years was his sister, Ann Corrigan.  Despite nearly twenty years researching my family history, I don't know much about Ann Corrigan beyond the basics.  She was born in 1836, married in 1860, and died in 1903.

Oh, and from 1893-1900 she and her husband owned my house.

Wilson and Ann (Corrigan) Flack were both in their fifties in 1893 when they bought the Einsel House. Two of their eight children were already married with growing families of their own.  But the remaining six children - George (29), Clara (25), Francis Albert (21), Mary (19), William (18) and Augusta "Gusta" (13) - surely provided plenty of help running the family's new 100 acre farm.

A local atlas published in 1896 outlines the Flack land:

Although property lines have obviously changed, the physical features portrayed on the above atlas remain remarkably unchanged.  The old Baptist church and cemetery are noted at the crossroads north of our house.  The square shaped woods beginning by the 'k' in Flack are still standing undisturbed.  With only one possible exception, every house shown on this atlas is still standing today.  (Although J. Mesnard's home is barely standing.)  The one black square that I'm unsure of is the one just east of the Mesnard property, along the creek on Abraham Cox's property.  That's a good distance off any road, and if any house remains at that location it has been long deserted.

But for me one of the most interesting similarities between this 1896 atlas and a theoretical contemporary atlas is that the newer version would have the same black squares in the same locations with no new squares.  This 1896 atlas clearly shows that every house in our neighborhood is at least 115 years old.  I like that.  : )

Turning back to the Flacks, by the time they reached their early 60s, Wilson and Ann must have decided that retirement sounded better than maintaining a 100 acre farm.  The deed recording their sale of the Einsel House to David Dellinger was recorded on March 31, 1900.  Three months later the Flacks were enumerated for the 1900 census while living in a rented house in the 'township seat' about 5 miles away.  Wilson's occupation was recorded as "retired farmer".

A post-script of sorts to this post is that as I was explaining this family connection to the house, my grandmother interrupted me to ask, "Did you say 'Flack'?".  Turns out she can vaguely remember as a child going with her own grandmother (John Corrigan's daughter Lulu) to Bloomville to visit "the Flack sisters" (who were Lulu's first cousins).  I still don't know a whole lot about the Flack family - their personalities, or their reasons for buying and later selling the Einsel House - but regardless I like the fact that I have a family connection to this house. 

An Old Walnut Grove

The most dominant tree on our property is a black walnut.  It stands just off the drive at the head of the pasture.  Anyone who visits the Einsel House passes under its shade.

The first time my grandpa visited the house he walked through the rooms in the old stone portion, taking in all the beautiful walnut woodwork, and he commented, "This must have been an old walnut grove."  Then he explained to me that walnut trees are toxic to other plants.  He said that as walnut hulls decompose they spread a poison through the soil around the tree.  This poison kills off the any non-walnut sapling that has the audacity of trying to take root within the black walnut's domain.  Over many years, the first 'mother' walnut tree to take root in an area would choke off other encroaching trees, providing benefit to her own walnut saplings.  Once grown, those saplings would repeat the favor for their own saplings.  Ad infinitum, at least until the axes of Noah Rhinehart's generation entered the picture. 

Because of this, grandpa explained, by the time the Rhineharts arrived here it would have been very rare to find a single full-grown walnut tree.  Instead, where there was one walnut tree there were likely many walnut trees - "an old walnut grove."

 In the past I've never cared much for walnut trees.  (They're messy.)  But after hearing grandpa's story, it seems appropriate in way that it's a black walnut guarding the drive to the Einsel House.  I see her as that protective mother, still looking over the other walnuts - albeit they are no longer trees, but the doors, stairs and trim in the house that she is guarding.

Lately, grandpa's story had been quietly repeating in the back of my head for a different reason.  Our 'Mother Walnut' is the first thing visitors pass as they approach the house, and she was looking a bit abused.  There is not enough space for the lawn mower to pass between the tree and the pasture fence, so that area had become a catch-all, the most convenient place to toss branches blown from the tree or stones pulled from the pasture. And there are apparently plenty of weeds that are immune to the black walnut poison.

So the last couple of weekends I've worked at clearing the area under our black walnut tree.  My original plan was to plant ivy under the tree, but after considering grandpa's story I decided it would be wise to investigate black walnut 'poison' before planting anything directly under our tree.  I learned that the poison's real name is juglone.  As grandpa said juglone is in walnut hulls, but also in the tree's roots.  And there is a relatively limited number of plants that are not affected by juglone.  Unfortunately, ivy is not one of those plants.  In the end, I decided on ajuga ("chocolate chip").

The ajuga was planted beneath the tree yesterday.  I moved all of the limestones from the pile under the tree, but left a small pile of other rocks for the ajuga to grow around.  So hopefully next spring our walnut tree will be surrounded by a bed of delicate blue flowers.

The Smith Years (1882-1893)

(Alternately titled "Kimberly Rants, Rambles, and Relies on Random Bits of Family and Local History to try to Disguise the Fact that She has No Clue What Happened at Her House Between 1882 and 1893".)

First, a brief explanation for my absence.  I'm still taking three out of four prescriptions and spent all of last week quarantined at home.  You would think that would mean I've had plenty of time to finish the kitchen, but, ummm, not so much. I'll get back to it eventually.

But - to the house.  Our last house history post ended on April Fool's Day, 1882, when Noah Einsel sold his stone house and 100 acres of land to John Henry Smith.  I groaned as soon as a saw the deed.  Those who know me in real life know that I like my houses old and I like my relatives old too.  I don't even mind if they're dead.  In fact the longer they've been dead the better.  In other words, I'm a genealogist.  And genealogists hate the name Smith. 

If you're looking through the index of 19th century marriage records for the county where you think your great, great, great grandparents got married you really want your great, great, great grandfather to have a surname like Winklefoos, or Quindleyplaas, or Schwartzengrubbier.  If Schwartzengrubbier shows up in the index at all you can be pretty darn sure you'll be related to every one that's listed (all 6 or 7 of them, yeah!).  But woe if you're looking for Great, Great, Great Grandpa Smith.  If he's there at all you'll have to sort through the other 274 indexed Smiths to find him.  266 of which you will not be related to at all.

The problem is somewhat lessened if your ancestor's first and middle names were a bit more risque.  Most genealogists can forgive a last name like Smith if it's preceded by a combination like Asberry Hiram, or Otha Lafayette, or Permenias Jasper.

But Permenias Jasper Smith didn't buy my house.  Frickin'-John frickin'-Henry frickin'-Smith bought my house.   The 1880 census for this county includes 33 John or John H. Smiths.  (And because I was curious I looked up the name Permenias Smith in the 1880 census - there are two results for the entire country, one each in Pennsylvania and New York).

But if you're a genealogist with the misfortune of having John Henry Smith as a great, great, grandfather you at least hope that Great Grandpa took for his wife a girl with a first name capable of salvaging this situation - something like Hildegarde would work pretty well.  With this hope in mind I flipped to my copy of the 1893 deed recording John H. Smith's sale of our house to Wilson Flack.  In particular I was looking for the dower clause near the end.  I was really hoping for Hildegard, although I would have been content with something like Harriet or Susannah or Rosina or anything please, as long as it's not...

Are you kidding me?  Mary?

It's quite possible that John and Mary Smith were lovely people, but other than their names I can't tell you a darn thing about them.  Of the 33 John Smiths living in this county in 1880, six had wives named Mary.  None of those six lived in this township.  In 1900 there were four John and Mary Smiths living this this county, again none of them in the correct township.  The 1890 census would be most helpful in identifying the correct John and Mary, but unfortunately most of the 1890 census was destroyed by a fire in the 1920s. 

I could keep trying.  Assuming the Smiths lived here during their childbearing years, my next step would be to visit the county probate court and scour birth records from 1882-1893 looking for any child born in this township whose parents were John and Mary Smith.  If I find something I could then use the child's name to track down his or her parents.  It's a bit of a long shot, but I've already tried the 'easy' stuff.

I've encountered the name Smith in my own family research but luckily not in any too prominent position.  (No Great, Great, Great Grandpa Smiths for me in other words.)  But the name Roush does feature prominently in my own genealogy, and in the town of Point Pleasant, West Virginia around 1900 Roush was even worse than Smith.  According to family lore, if you passed a gentleman while walking down the street in Point Pleasant around 1900 and said, "Hello, Mr. Roush" four out of five times you would be right. 

Hettie Ann Gray had married one of these Mr. Roushs in 1888, and by the time her fourth child was born in 1894 she was annoyed by the fact that her children inevitably shared their names with someone else in the community.  Hettie decided that her next baby would not have to share his name - and since 80% of the local population would have the same surname this meant Hettie would have to get creative with the baby's given names.  John, Richard, Edward, William and the like were out immediately.  Out too were Victor, Sylvester, Reuben and Otto.  Even Phineas and Elda and Orris had already been taken.  But Hettie didn't give up, and I can just imagine her with a little "beat that!" smirk on her face when my great grandfather was born on March 22, 1894.  She named him Ucebius Angelo Roush.  Perfect name for a tiny little WASP baby whose own Great, Great Grandfather Roush was one of nine brothers to fight in the American Revolution, don't you think?

But this story doesn't end on March 22, 1894.  As Ucebius and his siblings became teenagers a new worry began to consume their mother.  Sharing a name with another member of the community was troublesome enough, but sharing genes with another member of the community was even more worrisome.  And if you were a Roush living in Point Pleasant, West Virginia in the early 1900s it was no easy task to find a potential spouse who wasn't also either a Roush or a descendant of a Roush.  (In fact, Hettie and her own Mr. Roush were themselves second cousins once removed....)

So, sometime around 1905 Ucebius Angelo Roush and his family left Point Pleasant.  The wonderful picture above was taken some years later near their new home at Deunquat, Ohio.  (Great Grandpa is the one holding the two white horses).  And since we're on the topic of unusual names I can hardly end this post without telling the story of Deunquat.  The village was named after the Wyandot Indian Doanguod, best remembered by local residents for his fervent hatred of white men and his equally fervent love of "fire water".  Sometime as an undergraduate I wrote a short paper on the history of Deunquat, but of course I can't find a copy of it at the moment so what follows is mostly from memory.

Deunquat didn't begin as Deunquat. The community was originally known as Swigart Station, a name that was probably borrowed from one of the early residents.  But Swigart Station was an informal (unincorporated) name and when rumors of a possible railroad began to surface two of the local residents began to see dollar signs.  There followed a race to have the town incorporated. 

Picture two roads intersecting to form a plus sign.  Our two greedy/bickering neighbors each bought one quarter of the community and each had their quarter incorporated.  The northeast quadrant was incorporated as "Petersburg" and the southeast quadrant as "Addison".  The official plat records for Petersburg and Addison were filed within days of each other.  Following these affronts to its existence, the northwest quadrant was belatedly incorporated as Swigart Station.  Thus the 1879 atlas for Wyandot County includes the following:

Note the route of the proposed railroad.  Also note that although the atlas clearly identifies "Swigart Station", "Petersburg" and "Addison" as three distinct areas it identifies the area in its entirety as "Petersburg".  This was a precursor of things to come.  The proposed railroad eventually was built, but by then the Petersburg moniker had overtaken the whole community.

By the time Ucebius Angelo Roush was born nearly 200 miles to the south, Petersburg, Ohio was in its glory days.  And somewhere right around the turn of the twentieth century came Petersburg's crowning moment - it was selected by the United States government as the location for a brand new post office.  But there was one small problem.  In order to avoid confusion, the postal service had a rule that no two posts in the same state could share the same name.  And there was already a post office in Ohio labeled Petersburg.  

Numerous names were suggested but the turn of the twentieth century was the heyday for obscure little towns all through Ohio, and finding a name for Wyandot County's newest post office that wasn't already in use somewhere else proved to be something of a challenge.  Until someone suggested the name "Deunquat".  And what do you know - there was no other town in Ohio called "Deunquat".  To make it official a small area of land just south of the exising town was platted and incorporated under the new name.  And before long "Petersburg" went the way of Swigart Station and Addison.

But Deunquat's glory days were brief.  The post office, railroad, and the local church closed.  Within the village today mobile homes outnumber the few buildings remaining from the Petersburg days.  Today there's not so much as a stop sign to slow the traffic on State Route 231.

But somewhere near Deunquat, sometime in the mid 1910s, Ucebius Angelo Roush met his future wife.  Cora Mollenkopf was visiting a school friend when the two girls took lunch out to the field where the Roush brothers were helping a local farmer.  Ucebius and Cora were married on Christmas Eve, 1917.  If you scroll back up to the beginning of this post you will see their wedding picture. 

Before the Befores

As promised, this post will be full of older pictures of the house.  We've collected these from several sources - all various previous owners or renters of the EH.  The picture in yesterday's post is the oldest of the bunch.  (I'm still dreaming of finding a picture of the original front porch.)

Continuing with more exterior pictures of the house, here is an aerial photo taken in the mid 1990's:

We'd been told that the house used to be surrounded by trees, but seeing this picture still made me catch my breath.  The only tree in the above photo that was still standing by the time we bought the property is the solitary walnut alongside the drive at the bottom of the picture.  I do wish some of the trees around the house were still here.

Next up is the old bank barn:

I'm told the original barn sat basically where our pole barn now stands.  Although this picture only shows the front of the barn, there was a long "ell" off the back of the barn that extended down nearly to the creek.  Looking out the window as I type this, it's hard to believe the view of the pasture used to be so different.  The old barn was torn down in 1996/97, in preparation for putting the property on the market.  By all accounts the barn was in poor condition when it was torn down.  (It was also, by all accounts, full of large old growth timber.)

Up next, the south side of the house, mid 1990's:

This is one of my favorite old pictures of the house. I've got a list of "someday" projects for the EH, and high on that list is bringing back that little side porch.

At left is a close up of the porch from the picture above. I love the pilaster at the top of the right handrail (which also gives me clues as to recreating the original front porch, another "someday" project). I'm also pleased that this picture shows the interior walls of the porch were covered in clapboard siding. The large pipe that is visible was the vent for the bathroom. If we ever do reopen the side porch we will almost certainly move the bathroom's location at the same time, meaning we could forego this one detail.

The pictures below show the same area, circa 1996 at left, and today at right:

The door and window in the 1996 picture went out to the porch pictured above.  The current door goes to the bathroom.  I wish the 1996 picture was brighter so that I could make out more details on the door. (Looks like we need a larger area rug!)

Our 1996 photographer did a 180 degree turn after taking the above picture to snap these two pictures of the kitchen:

(I hope you'll forgive me, P, if you ever see this blog post, but it was one of the best pictures of the old kitchen.) 

These earlier kitchen pictures intrigue me. What I see in these pictures (especially the horizontal board 2/3 up the wall) seems to reinforce my belief that the kitchen addition dates from the 1880s or earlier.

At right is a current photo taken at the same angle as the right picture above.  The ivory light-switch and plate in the current photo are black in the earlier photo, if that helps you orient the two pictures.  The left picture above shows the wall that used to divide the kitchen wing into two rooms.  (Note the flue cover, and compare it to the location of the chimney in the picture below.) 

The last picture I have to share today shows the back of the house, again circa 1996.  See the little cupola over the kitchen roof?  No one I've talked to can ever remember it having a bell, but it seems obvious to me that it was intended to house a bell.  The cupola blew off during a storm sometime after 1997.  Replacing it is another item on the "someday" list. 

And with that, I'll end this post.  I've got a cake cooling in the kitchen and a seven-year-old boy who is quite anxious to frost it.  : )

Recognize this place?

This is the same view of the house as the pictures in the blog header.  Taken circa late 1970s I'm guessing.  Look at those trees.  I'm not sure who the guy working on the porch is.  Nor am I sure why all that wood is piled up by the old side porch.

More 'old' pictures coming soon....

An Einsel Sibling? Update

In this post from last October I featured a nearby stone house that I suspect was built by the same mason and/or carpenter as the Einsel House.  Since then I've gradually been learning more about this possible Einsel House sibling.

My uncle's nephew C, who lives much closer to Columbus than I do, helped by checking the Ohio Historic Inventory for the larger stone house and he emailed me a copy of the registry sheet he found, which is dated 1981. The larger stone house is known as the Simon Koller House.  The OHI lists it as "Italianate" in style (definately not what I would label the house at first appearance).  The box with date built has ca. 1840 typed, but this is crossed off in pencil with 1860 handwritten beside it. 

In the box for Further Description of Important Features the preparer noted "6/6 windows, stone lintels over windows; house is deep; stone belt courses along first and second stories; deeply recessed door opening with panelling around door; door in center of second story; wide overhanging eaves; two interior chimneys."  Sadly, the 6/6 windows are now gone but the rest of this description is still accurate.

For History and Significance the preparer wrote "The largest stone house found in rural --- County, this house is a fine example of stone architecture.  It reflects the transitional period to the Italianate style and still retains its original detailing.  Simon Koller, a native of Pennsylvania, built this house around 1840.  A large land owner of over 400 acres on which this house stood, he farmed the land as well as operated a saw mill and grist mill.  He owned the northwest corner of the town of --- when the town was platted in 1837.  He retained his prominent position for many years in --- Township."  (Sorry for the redactions there, this blog has enough information that anyone who really wants to find me can, but I'd rather not make it too easy.)  Again in this section, the build date of 1840 is crossed off in pencil. 

I'm quite curious who made the later "corrections" to the build date on the OHI registry.  I strongly feel that the original circa 1840 build date is more accurate.  1860 would be much more in-line with the general Italianate movement in architecture, but as I stated above, in my opinion labeling the Koller House as Italianate is a bit of a stretch in the first place.  1840 also seems to be a better fit considering the home's original owner, Simon Koller.  In 1840 Simon was in the prime of his life, with a house full of children.  By 1860, Simon and his wife were in their late fifties, with only three children (all daughters quickly approaching marriageable age) still living at home. 

Then yesterday I stumbled upon another clue.  I found the following biographical sketch of Mr. Koller, taken from a county history published in 1886:

SIMON KOLLER (deceased) was born February 8, 1802, in York County, Penn., where he grew to manhood. He was married in his native county to Mrs. Mary Magdalena Bricker, also a native of York Co., Penn. born January 6, 1810. In 1838 they turned their faces westward, attracted by the advantages for new settlers in the climate and soil of Ohio. They remained about two years in Wayne County, Ohio and in 1846 settled permanently on Honey Creek, --- Township, this county. Here they bought 160 acres of land which they increased the next year to 320 acres. They reared an intelligent and influential family, five of their eight children are now living: Josiah, residing at Napoleon, Ohio; Mrs. Maria Zeigler, residing at Bucyrus, Ohio; Mrs. Sarah Seigley, Martin; and Mrs. Leah Benenderfer. Mr. Koller was a man of wonderful industry and energy. Besides his extensive farm interests he established a saw mill on his place and afterwards built a grist mill, near by, which he operated until 1865. He added to his landed property until he owned in all about 550 acres in this county. As a citizen Mr. Koller was known far and wide for his generosity and liberality to the poor. It is said that even those who had done him great injury received favors from his hand. Mr. Koller died February 13, 1882, his wife having preceded him September 6, 1881. They were pious members of the Reformed Church. Mr. Koller being almost the main support in building the church here; they were among the township’s best known and most highly respected pioneers and their memory will long be honored by the citizens.

The whole sketch is quite entertaining, and I suspect Mr. Koller is a man anyone would be proud to include in their family tree, but there's one detail in this sketch that practically jumps off the page for me - "and in 1846 settled permanently on Honey Creek".  When I visited the Koller house back in October my camera was exclusively focused on the house itself, but if I had taken any pictures with my back to the house they would show that the large stone house included in the Ohio Historic Registry, the Simon Koller House, the house I suspect to be an Einsel House sibling, is built directly facing Honey Creek.

So - I think circa 1846 may be the most accurate build date yet for the Koller House.  And when I read that date my heart went pitter-patter - because I've narrowed the most probable build date for our own house down to circa 1844-45.  That's pretty darn close to 1846. 

Will I ever be able to prove beyond a doubt that the Koller House and the Einsel House were built by the same person?  Probably not, but the more I learn about each house the more convinced I am.

The Einsel Years (1864-1882)

The deed recording the sale of our home from Noah Rhinehart to Noah Einsel was recorded on March 8, 1864. 

As explained in a post from last winter I originally believed that Noah Einsel had inherited the house from his parents - thus the "Einsel" label on the house and blog.  I was wrong - Noah Einsel did inherit a house from his parents, but he paid $5,280.00 for this stone house and the surrounding 80 acres. 

Noah and Mary Einsel were both in their early thirties when they bought this house.  They celebrated their 12th anniversary three days after closing on the property.  Their family in 1864 numbered six - eldest child Alonzo was eleven years old, Clara was ten, Delora was seven, and Fannie was seventeen months. 

The 1870 census shows Noah and Mary living in this house with their four children.  Noah's occupation in that census is recorded as 'farmer', but county histories from later that decade reveal that Noah also maintained an active stone quarry on the property. 

I do not know exactly when the Einsel family moved out of our house, but the 1880 census shows the Einsels living in the county seat, about 10 miles northwest of here.  The county history published in 1884 (luckily county histories were popular in the late 1800's) reveals that by that time Noah was employed as a partner in a local mill. 

I'm not sure who (if anyone) was living in the stone house in 1880.  One possibility is Noah and Mary Einsel's daughter, Clara, who had been married in 1875 to Frank P. Klahr.  Frank and Clara Klahr with their young daughter Leora were enumerated in this township for the 1880 census.  It seems possible to me that Noah and Mary would let their daughter and son-in-law live in the house while Frank built his practice as a physician. 

But regardless of who was living here, Noah Einsel did not keep the house long after moving to the county seat.  On April 1, 1882 Noah and Mary sold the house and 100 acres to John Henry Smith for $10,000.  The Einsel-to-Smith sale price stands out to me.  Noah Einsel paid $5,280 for the house and 80 acres of land in 1864.  To me, the addition of 20 acres of land seems insufficient to explain the fact that Noah Einsel sold the house in 1882 for almost twice what he had paid for it 18 years before.  It's possible that the price of farmland in this area skyrocketed after the Civil War.  However, I know that at one time there were numerous barns and other outbuildings on this property, and it is possible that some of these were built during the Einsel years.  And I strongly suspect that the frame (kitchen) addition to the house was built during the Einsel years.  No matter what their nature, it seems apparent that Noah Einsel made improvements to the property during his 18 years of ownership.

Thus the story of the family who gave this blog its name.  They lived in the house almost as long as the home's first owners, the Rhineharts, but like the Rhineharts they left this home while still middle aged, living out the remainder of their adult lives in another home.  This was a trend that would continue for the stone house until the arrival of the Frankenfields in 1901.

The Rhineharts Revisited

One of the highlights of last summer was a visit from Jim Rhinehart, a great, great grandson of Noah and Rebecca Rhinehart, the first owners of our home. This was during my little June/July semi-hiatus from the blog.  With some help from Jim, and after some additional research on my own, I’ve learned a bit more information about Noah and Rebecca, and I’m long overdue for sharing that information here.


A study of the first property owners in our county reveals that the land our house was built on was purchased from the United States government on June 3, 1822 by Jacob Rhinehart (Noah’s father). Jacob came here from Fairfield County, Ohio and according to family lore died in a barn raising accident shortly after arriving, leaving behind a young widow and infant son Noah. Also according to family lore, Jacob’s widow Susannah remarried and moved "back east" leaving young Noah to be raised as an orphan. Two of the questions raised by my earlier research on the Rhinehart family were who raised Noah? And what became of his mother, Susannah? A little more digging and some answers are starting to piece together.

By the summer of 1830, Noah Rhinehart would have been 9 years old; his mother Susannah would have been 27. The federal census taken that year includes the tiny family of a "Susan Rinehart" living in Rush Creek Township, Fairfield County, Ohio. The household consisted of one female between the ages of 20-30 and two young males, one under 5 years of age and the other between the ages of 5-10. It makes sense that Jacob’s widow would have returned to Fairfield County following her husband’s death, and the enumeration strongly suggests it is for ‘our’ Susannah and Noah, but I’m stumped by the male under the age of 5. If it is a younger child of Jacob and Susannah then Jacob’s death was apparently in the mid-to-late 1820’s rather than the early 1820’s. And what became of this apparent younger brother to Noah? (As usual with genealogy – answer one question and you raise two more.)

As for Susannah, she must have maintained some presence in the area where she and Jacob had bought land and planned to live. Our house is located about 3 miles north of a county line, and records from the county just to our south include the marriage of a Susannah Rhinehart to G.T. Denman on April 14, 1835. Noah was one month shy of 14 years old when his mother remarried. His new stepfather was Gersham Terry Denman, born about 1780. Like Susannah, Gersham had been previously married and had children from his first marriage.

The 1840 census records Gersham and Susannah Denman living in the county of their marriage, with three children in the household: a male between the ages of 5-10 (Gersham’s youngest child from his first marriage, Andrew Denman, born about 1832), a female under the age of 5 (Martha J. Denman, born to Gersham and Susannah about 1838) and a male under the age of 5 (Gersham T. Denman, Jr., born to Gersham and Susannah about 1840). Noah, then barely 19, was not enumerated with the family. At that age, it is quite likely that Noah was living with another family as a hired farm laborer. Out of curiosity, I looked up the family of Benjamin and Anna Huddle (Noah’s future in-laws) in the 1840 census, however there is no male Noah’s age enumerated with their family. But living just three houses away from the Huddles was the Daniel Troxel family, consisting of a male 20-30 (presumably Daniel), a female 20-30 (presumably Daniel’s wife), a female 5-10 (presumable Daniel’s daughter), a male under 5 (presumably Daniel’s son) and a male 15-20 (hmmmm… too old to be Daniel’s son, but a perfect age to be a hired hand). How I wish the 1840 census listed everyone in the household by name!

Noah Rhinehart reappears on the official record on April 6, 1844 when he purchases the land where our house currently stands from Jacob Rhinehart (his deceased father?). Curiously, another deed for the exact same parcel of land was recorded on January 29, 1845, this time transferring ownership to Noah Rhinehart from G.T. Denman and his wife Susannah (Noah’s mother and step-father). Although I have little more than a gut feeling upon which to base this, I believe that our house was probably built during the summer and fall of 1844. Noah was twenty-three years old, and undoubtedly planning ahead for his marriage to Rebecca Huddle which would occur the following spring.

The story of Noah and Rebecca’s years in their stone house remains as told in my earlier post here. Meanwhile, Noah’s mother and stepfather remained living just to the south. By 1850 Noah had four young half-siblings; in addition to Martha and Gersham, Jr., there were now Abner Denman (born about 1842) and Catherine Denman (born about 1844). Sometime in the 1850’s Gersham and Susannah Denman did move, but they moved not "back east" as family lore claimed, but north instead – to Minnesota to be precise.

There is one final interesting note about the Rhineharts. As stated in my earlier post, Noah and Rebecca sold the stone house in 1864 and moved to Shelby County, Ohio.  It turns out this was not a random relocation - Noah joined a large extended family in Shelby County, it being the home to his Rhinehart grandparents as well as numerous aunts, uncles and cousins.

Noah Rhinehart's life is still puncuated by tragedy - particularly his father's death in the 1820's and his son's death in the 1860's - but contrary to my earlier image of Noah as an orphan I now see that he had the support of family throughout his life.  Other than a few years just before his marriage, it appears that Noah was raised by his own mother.  And Noah and Rebecca's relocation to Shelby County suggests that, in spite of his father's very early death, Noah maintained close contact with his Rhinehart kin.  I'm relieved for Noah.  That's probably kind of silly since the man passed away more than a hundred years ago, but still, it's comforting to know that the first owner of our home had the love and support of family to fall back on in times of sorrow.

An Einsel House Sibling?

To the best of my knowledge, there are only five stone houses remaining in this county.  So a few months ago when I saw one of the others on a local realtor's website I was immediately itching to check it out.  It went under contract almost immediately (read - before there was any open house) but luckily for me (although admittedly unluckily for the homeowners) the deal fell through.  And this past Sunday from 4:00-5:00 the realtor held an open house.

The stone house for sale is far and away the largest of all of the stone homes in this area.  It is 3,150 square feet, two stories with a large walk-up attic, a perfect 35x45 rectangle.  (For comparison sake, the two story part of our house is 20x28.) 

With the exception of the west side of the house (bottom picture above) all of the basement windows have these amazing grates:

The house clearly originally had a porch with a balcony above.  As at our house, there is a single huge flagstone as the porch floor.

Behind that atrocity of a screen door is the original paneled front door.

As can be seen in these pictures, the house has horizontal stone bands under both the first and second story windows.  Other than these bands around the house, the stone construction looks a lot like that of our own house.  Even the chisel marks in the stones look identical to the marks in our stones.

Walking through the house, even more similarities to the Einsel House were noticable. 

Take these baseboards - Big House at left, Einsel House at right:

 Or the framing around the parlor windows:

Or this:

The left picture above was taken on the way up to the big house's attic.  The right picture was taken on the way down to the EH basement.

The window frames in both houses are beveled (at what appears to be an identical angle) and several doors in the big house have the same large center board as our doors at the EH.  Even the layout of the houses are similar - centered entrances and centered staircases, both parlors in the front right corner and both original kitchens in the back left corner.

The more I walked through the house the more intrigued I became.  The realtor's information sheet gave a build date as 1890, but she probably got that information from the county auditor (who claims the Einsel House was built in 1900 - phoooey.)  To my eye, I'd easily place the larger stone house within a decade or less of the EH.  The houses are located about 4 miles from each other, both within the same township.   It is very conceivable that they were built by the same mason and/or carpenter.  Which means that - someday when I have time - I'm going to be digging into the big house's history, hoping that it will perhaps tell me something about my own home's story.

But, since I know you're all curious, I'll share more pictures from the big stone house.  As the pictures above have already shown, the bigger house has been slathered in paint.  There is not one inch of baseboard or trim or door that has escaped a solid white fate.  The walls all have a textured surface, and they too are covered in light colored paint.  Too light, in my humble opinion.  The details in the larger house are actually a bit fancier than our house, but with the white paint and pale walls everything sort fades into itself.  The wood floors in the first floor are all under carpet (beige berber).  The second floor is carpet free, but its wood floors are all painted a solid Hershey's Milk Chocolate brown.

All that said, the house is amazing.

In my mind I see this room with the (far) chandelier and adjustable shelves gone, the original wood floors refinished, and a wall color that doesn't try to smother the white trim.

Standing back a few more feet:

Can you believe that doorway!?!?

After a close study of the large room, I am convinced that there were probably two doorways like this.  Today, when you come in the front door you are immediately in the large room pictured above, the wide doorway above is to your right, the single door straight in front of you goes to the stairs.  But lines on the wall and ceiling reveal that the front door didn't always open into such a large room.  There was at one time another wall, making a hallway about ten feet wide that ran from the front door straight back to the stairway door.  The right wall of this hall was the large doorway pictured above.  The left side of this hall is now gone, but since Greek Revival houses are heavy on symmetry I suspect that it probably was a mirror image of the doorway that remains.

The bathroom reveals more change from the home's original layout.  It was carved out of two rooms, the parlor and the back right room (now the kitchen).  Check out the windows in this picture:

The window on the right is a parlor window, the one to the left is from the back room.  Between them you can even see a little stub of the wall that came out when this became a bathroom.

At right is a picture of the hall at the top of the stairs.  It basically splits the second story into two equal halves.  This picture is taken looking from the back of the house to the front.  In the lower lefthand corner of the picture is the bannister.

I suspect that the original wood bannister may still be there, just plastered over.  I'm not 100% sure, but if the place were mine you can bet I would be busting a hole in that plaster to check.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the house for me was the attic.  I've often wondered what our attic looks like.  (Without all the bat dung, that is.)  So when I walked into the big house's attic and saw this:

...it took my breath away.  (And not because the chimney is crooked.  It's not.  It's just wider at the roof than it is at the attic floor.)



The pictures cannot convey how absolutely massive those beams and tree trunks are.  Even the boards used as roof sheeting are amazing.  Some are nearly two feet wide.  And as you can see in the pictures, it's all mortise and tenon construction.  The tree trunks are not pieced, each one runs all the way from the attic floor to the peak, with a notch in the center to fit over the support beam.

It almost makes me want to bust a hole in one of our bedroom ceilings so I can poke my head up into our own attic.  (After all the bat dung has been cleaned up, that is.)

I wish the big house's owners luck in selling it.  The realtor said they lived there 30 years and were ready to downsize.  Clearly they maintained the place well, albeit with a remodeler's hand instead of a renovator's.  If I'm able to learn more of the history of the house they left behind I'll be sure to share it here.

First Housiversary

No, I haven’t been eaten up by some creepy crawly beastie from the basement. We’re all still here, busy cleaning up from an open house we had on Sunday to celebrate our first Einsel House anniversary. By our count, just under 70 people went through the house. Typically crowds are not my forte, but I must confess that I’m pretty proud of this place and it was wonderful to be able to share it with so many people.

It amazes me to think back to one year ago and to realize how much we have accomplished in just one year. But running out of home improvement projects should never be a problem around here. J The springhouse has come a long way since spring, but we need to finish the roof before winter sets in. And rebuilding the stone bridge has become a priority. The collapsed west side has eroded noticeably in the past year. Inside the house there are plenty of finishing touches to be addressed. The walls are still mostly bare and little things like door thresholds and a few last sections of baseboard need to be replaced. And last week we bought this thing to put in the north end of the kitchen:

The plan is to sand it down and stain it to match the old lab table/kitchen island.  We'll take off that paneling and have open shelves in the middle.  (But I make no promises as to when all this will get done!)



One Year Ago Today

One year ago today Charles and I and attended our first, and only, sheriff sale.

...There was only a pounding vacancy in my head. No words formed into thoughts, but it was a prayer anyway. At the podium she asked if there were any other bids...

As I sit here today I can recall the emotions of that day so clearly. The nervousness, the fear, the confusion - and ultimately the joy. But as I look back today there is an added emotion. It's not guilt exactly. And yet. There is sorrow in the knowledge that one person's joy can come only at the expense of another person's pain.

Somehow it's the same today as then. The words won't quite form into thoughts, but it is a prayer anyway.

Sunday Visitors

Just before noon on Sunday I was working on the final coat of finish in the office at the Einsel House when I noticed an unfamiliar van pulling up the drive. The woman who got out was studying the house intently as she came up the walk to the kitchen door. We must have made quite a contrasting pair when I opened the door - she neatly dressed and arranged (think "retired schoolteacher" - which she would later tell me she was), and me in my paint-splattered work clothes with unkept hair. But when she introduced herself I was immediately too excited to worry about how I looked. Although she had never lived in the house, this was a previous owner of the Einsel House. The property had been in her family since the early 1900's, and although the family sold the house in 1997, our Sunday visitor still owns the fields to the north and east of the house. She now lives several counties away and a local farmer rents the fields, but she had stopped by to check on her land and she noticed that the house showed signs of recent work. So she drove up the drive and then followed a wonderful hour, showing her through the house and grounds, soaking up the memories she shared of this place and the people who called it home.

Later in the afternoon (when the office woodwork was safely under its second coat of finish) I again looked up to an unfamiliar car coming up the drive. It took me a minute this time to realize that I had indeed already met the couple who got out of the car. Laughing, they introduced me to their youngest son - who was seven years old when they moved out of the Einsel House. This was the last family to rent the property from our first Sunday visitor, having lived here from 1995-1997. And then followed another wonderful time, with a different memory bubbling up every few steps. It was fun to watch their son as he walked around. Being so young when his family left, his memories of the house were fuzzier than his parents', but as we went from room to room he became more and more animated. It was clear that being in the house (and listening to his parents' stories) helped bring his own memories back in focus.

Charles and I owe the H family a special thank you. As I mentioned above, we had met them before, but that meeting had been more than a year prior to their Sunday visit. As this blog has chronicled, the story of how we wound up with the Einsel House is a bit unconventional. Typically, when you buy a house at sheriff sale you are buying "as is", without any knowledge or any chance to inspect the property. Thanks to my job, we found out in January of 2009 that the Einsel House would probably wind up at sheriff sale, but we also knew that the process would be a lengthy one. Just by driving by we knew we were very interested in the property, but without a chance to see the home's interior we weren't sure how interested we were. Charles in particular thought it was crazy to twiddle our thumbs for months - in a buyer's market - waiting for a house that we could only view from end of the (quite long) driveway. And I must admit, although 'a few months' doesn't sound that long in the grand scheme of things, it sure feels long when you are actually living it.

Enter the H family. A friend from church lives just across the field from the Einsel House, so one night I called her to find out if she had by chance ever been in the house and could answer any of my questions about the home's interior. She told me to call the H's. So I did. And they gushed about the property. Told us they had pictures and video and they would be happy to share them with us. So early on a spring evening we went to the H's house and they put in a home video taken in the mid 1990's at the Einsel House. And oh. my. OH. MY. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that the the woodwork could have looked like that. And those original doors. And the springhouse. And the stone bridge. And the creek. And I was in love. In love. Head over heels in love.

Eventually I hand delivered a letter to the house's owners explaining our interest in the property and asking if we could see the property in person. (At that point I was probably willing to buy it regardless, but Charles was still understandably hesitant to buy a house based only on some 12 year old photos and video.) Oh, we did still look at other houses. But as that long summer came to an end we still had not bought anything, and just before the sheriff sale on this house the owners called us and most graciously allowed us into their home. It was a selfless act for which we remain most grateful.

The rest, as they say, is history. : )

Of Interest Perhaps

The following was too long to include in the last post without overwhelming it, but I include it here as a footnote of sorts. This is titled "Recollections of Pioneer Days" and was written in the late 19th century by Rebecca (Huddle) Rhinehart's uncle, Elder Lewis Seitz, longtime pastor of the local Primitive Baptist Church. I'll save my own comments for the very end.

In October, 1825, at the age of twenty-three, with my wife and one child, I removed to my present home....I came from my native county, Fairfield, into an almost unbroken wilderness of forest trees, with less than a score of settlers in advance of me. Nearly all who were here before me had settled along the rich valley of Honey creek. For two or three years before mine was reared, cabins had begun to appear in our wilderness. J.C. Hampton (who came in 1822 with the Boyds and Donalds, from Ross County), informs me that he aided in erecting the first cabin put up in the township. This was for my brother, Noah, on Silver Creek. Hampton made his home for a time with his companions from Ross. Their shelter at first was in a log pen covered with logs split in twain, the under tier being with flat side up, and the top tier covering the cracks with the flat side down. The beds were for the women, on bedsteads, with one post. That is, in one corner of the "pen" two poles were entered in the logs with the other end in this "post". Basswood bark furnished the "cords." The men slept on the ground, with hickory bark spread down for sheets. Hampton says: "Our first supply of flour was brought by us on horseback...through the woods."

During these early days a wilderness of forest trees covered the earth, and the first need of the settler was to clear away space enough for a cabin, and then it was "root, hog, or die." While I brought from Fairfield County enough flour to last two years, very few of my contemporaries were thus provided. One season, however, usually sufficed the industrious prioneer to clear a small field and grow bread to do. As for meat, everyone had his gun to supply him with wild turkey or venison, which were abundant. Often, too, as we lay upon our pillow at night, were we saluted with the howl of wolves, apparently at our cabin door. Not only did they make night vocal with their cries, but woe to the sheep or young pigs not well guarded. An occassional bear passed through, but I think none made their home in our township. There were some otter...A wildcat was shot within one hundred rods of our cabin. Indians often visited us...Our red brother was uniformly friendly, and, as a rule, honest, but a tricky one appeared sometimes...

The pioneer who succeeded best in making a comfortable living, did not make a business of hunting, but chopping and logging and burning was the chief work. Much timber, which today would be valuable in the market, was burned on the ground. No where could finer poplar, walnut, blue ash and butternut trees be found...

The first saw mill was built by Roswell Munsel and the Donalds, on Honey Creek, near the present Kaler mill. Soon after John Davis built another mill, a mile further down, where my first lumber was made. A few years later Abraham Kagy put up a saw mill, and the Steeles a saw and grist mill on Silver Creek. It may be well to remind the reader that in those days our water courses furnished power much more steadily and for a greater part of the year. Through the clearing away of fallen timber and general drainage, our creeks gave short lived spirts of water....

In those days neighbors were neighbors, indeed. Was a cabin to be "raised," logs to be "rolled," or assistance of any kind needed, a simple notice was enough. A "neighbor" could be found at a much greater distance than now. The whisky of those days was not charged with "killing at forty rods" as now, but the "brown jug" or the "barrel" was found in nearly every home, and it was esteemed an indispensible "mechanical power" at "raisings" and "loggings", etc., etc.

On the 27th of May, 1827, the Baptist church, named "Honey Creek", was organized. The "council" was composed of Elders Thomas Snelson, of Highland County, and Benjamin Caves, of Pickaway, and Deacon John Hite, of Fairfield. In 1830 the undersigned was chosen pastor of this church and has sustained this relation ever since. As will be noticed, ministers in those days traveled a great way in the pursuit of the calling. But not as now, cosily and swiftly in a railway coach, but invariably on horseback, equipped with "saddle-bags", with Bible, hymn book, a few "dickeys" (a sort of shirt-front with collar attached), and some provisions, perhsaps. The messenger of "peace and good will," through the cross of Christ, traveled in all kinds of weather, over all sorts of roads (or no roads through the wilderness). Perhaps such experiences, if peresent to many of our clerical brethren today, as part of their labors, would lead to some more congenial calling. But it must be remembered that the privations and trials of pioneer life were shared by all classes, and hence borne more cheerfully. While we may freely admit that this generation is enjoying much that is good and desirable as the fruit of the labors and purposes of their pioneer fathers and mothers, it is a matter of profound regret that the rugged virtues and beautiful friendships could not have been transmitted with the improved culture, conveniences, comforts and luxuries enjoyed by our children. They are enjoying the material blessings for which their fathers and mothers toiled and dared and suffered. Modern improvements have obviated the necessity for much of the personal effort and deprivation of pioneer life, but when we cease to practice their manly and womanly virtues, all our boasted progress cannot save us from the penalties of violated moral law.

Of all my first neighbors, Abraham Kagy, J.C. Hampton, Mrs. Thomas West and John C. Martin alone remain. The rest have passed to that "bourne from whence no traveler returns." We, too, shall soon pass away, but may He who guides the destinies of men and of nations, bless our children and our country with civil and religious liberty, and every good resulting from the reign of truth and righteousness is the prayer of Yours truly Lewis Seitz.

Several items from this account drew my particular attention. First, Elder Seitz arrived here in late 1825 - three years after Jacob and Susannah Rhinehart came to this township. In fact, Seitz states that 1822 (the year the Rhineharts came) was the year the very first cabin in the township was built. Clearly, the Rhineharts arrived to an unbroken wilderness when they reached their new home. I also noted Seitz's praise of the neighborliness of the pioneer settlers. Although knowing that Jacob Rhinehart died at a neighbor's barn raising, I was struck by Seitz's admission that whisky "was esteemed an indispensable 'mechanical power' at 'raisings' and 'loggings,' etc., etc.".

Two other sections of Seitz's recollection drew my attention. Since our house is full of some amazing walnut woodwork, the line "No where could finer poplar, walnut, blue ash and butternut trees be found" definately made me smile.

Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, I was struck by Seitz's statement that "in those days our water courses funished power much more steadily and for a greater part of the year". Although our springhouse still stands (thanks to some amazing work by our masons) it would currently not be able to properly serve its original purpose again. The creek that provided the water necessary to keep the springhouse cool is now often barely more than a trickle. Much of last fall the creek bed was entirely dry. A neighbor who has farmed near us since the 1940s tells us that the flow of water in our creek has diminished noticably even in the last 60 years. He speculates that farmers tiling their fields is the primary cause for this change. It is very interesting (and a bit sad I think) to note that this phenomenon was noted as far back as the 1880s.

And with that I'm off to the house for another 48 hours of toil and labor. Something that I think Elder Seitz would approve of. :)