More Salvage

I'm anxious to return to our shed this weekend, but before I do I wanted to put up one more post about salvaging from the old Second Empire brick house.  I've made a total of six trips to the house, which sounds quite impressive until I admit that four of those trips were made in our 10 year old Ford Ranger and it doesn't take a whole lot to weigh the back of that little truck down.  Still, I have a decent pile of material from the old house that will live on here at the EH.

Gathering salvaged bricks from the house isn't quite as simple as it may seem.  The walls of the old house were three courses of brick deep, but only the exterior layer of bricks were fired.  The two inner courses were made of (cheaper) unfired bricks.  These look almost identical to the exterior layer but they are porous.  I remember nearly twenty years ago when my mom laid her first brick walkway only to have half of the bricks disintegrate after a couple winters of the freeze-thaw cycle.  I would rather not repeat that experience with my own brick path.

As the picture at left shows, it was easiest to gather exterior bricks by taking apart the few sections of wall that were still intact.  And although it's difficult to tell in the pictures, I could also identify exterior bricks by the color of mortar on them.  This appeared to be lime based (white) on the exterior course and clay (?) based (tan) on the interior courses.

Back home and neatly stacked, my brick supply for next summer looks like this:

My seven salvaged stone lintels are stacked just beside the bricks:

I'm thinking that when we tackle rebuilding the stone bridge I will try to incorporate these lintels as steps from the bridge down to a path along the creek.

I also brought back three large corbels pulled from the wreckage, and two matching baby corbels I found on my last trip.  These are obviously not the right style to try to incorporate into the Einsel House, but I think they should make some amazing supports for shelves in the shed. 

Finally, one last picture from the old house.  When I climbed up on the pile of rubble I was shocked to find this section of the old mansard roof still partially intact:

There were three different shapes of slate shingles incorporated into this roof - rectangle at the very top, diamond in the center and hexagon at the bottom.  I have such a difficult time understanding how someone could look at this house and not think it was worth saving.

Bittersweet

Among my future plans for the Einsel House is an herb garden with a brick walk.  The garden won't happen until (at least) next summer, but I've already been stalking Craigslist for several months in case an opportunity for bricks presented itself.  Unfortunately, after at least 4 months of watching no such opportunity appeared.  But then last week my grandma gave me a call.

Remember this house?

Well, I've got a source of bricks now.

My grandma knew I was looking for bricks and when she called to tell me about the huge brick house she saw being torn down on the way to her sister's it didn't take long for me to realize I knew exactly what house she was talking about.  I called the owner last night and was given permission to take whatever I wanted.  ("At least you were kind enough to ask first," the owner's wife said.)  Two trailer loads came back today; mostly bricks but also one stone lintel and two large corbels that were not too damaged by the wrecking ball.  I plan to go back for more bricks as the weather permits.

I sensed back in December that this house would never see renovation, but the salvage trip today was still bittersweet.

Picking Berries

Last Thursday after work my mom and I took the kids to the woods just south of us to pick black raspberries.  These are the woods with the old log cabin in them.  I called the property's owner first to double check that it was still okay for us to pick berries there and he said sure (as long we leave the cherries on the front cherry tree untouched - they're for his wife's pies).  Although I'd been through the woods several times, the draw every other visit was the log cabin.  This time it was the hope of a raspberry pie. 

The fields surrounding our house have been tended by the same farmer since the 1940's.  Now in his eighties, he loves to chat with Charles and I, sharing stories of our house and the people who lived here before us.  He has also shared stories about the old cabin next door.  According to our farmer, the last person to live in the cabin was an older bachelor whose hobby was gardening.  He is said to have kept a large garden behind the house where he grew all kinds of fruits and vegetables.  When the bachelor died the garden was left to grow wild.  The vegetables eventually died off, but the raspberry bushes thrived, spreading through the woods around the cabin.  Our farmer will smile as he remembers breaks taken from the field to pick a few berries ("as big around as my thumb" he says holding his hand out in front of him).

The berries are not quite that big anymore, but there are so many of them that it really doesn't matter.  Any semblance of an organized garden is long gone, but I find it telling that even today the raspberries are all found in the front half of the woods surrounding the old cabin and barn foundation.  Once you pass the cabin the raspberries bushes become fewer and fewer and the last third of the woods has almost no berries.

Cecilia quickly tired of picking berries (too 'pokey' and too many daddy longleg spiders), but Neil was a tireless berry picker. We picked the first berries to ripen this season, so I plan to take Neil back in a few days and there should be even more raspberries ready to pick.

While there I also took some pictures of the old barn foundation:

According to our farmer, the barn was burned down by a hired hand who felt he had been underpaid for his labor.  When the fire was discovered neighbors from throughout the area came to help, but the barn was a complete loss.  And with everyone's attention focused on the barn, it was only after the fire that anyone noticed a ladder leaning against the back side of the house.  The window at the top of the ladder opened into the land owner's bedroom, where a large sum of money was missing from a bedside dresser.  Only with this discovery did all of the gathered neighbors realize that the hired farm hand had been conspicuously absent during the chaos of the fire.   He remained conspicuously absent afterward as well.

And, since I'm still completely fascinated by it, here are more pictures of the abandoned log cabin:

(I think you should be able to click on any of these for a larger view)

 In the 1896 atlas this whole area is shown as cleared land.  I suspect that whenever the house was abandoned the entire property was abandoned (apparently sometime before height of the Great Depression because REA electricity never reached the cabin).  Nearly all of the trees in the woods surrounding the cabin today have trunks that are less than a foot in diameter.  The only exception was the old tree pictured at right which stands about 20 feet from the southwest corner of the cabin.

Yesterday after working outside in the heat most of the afternoon, the kids and I washed our black raspberries from Thursday's expedition and just before bed we all enjoyed still warm from the oven black raspberry pie with vanilla ice cream melting against it.  It makes me smile to think that raspberry bushes planted and tended by an (apparently stingy) old bachelor a hundred years ago or more are still bringing pleasure today.  : )

Ancestors, Indians, and Johnny Appleseed

I shared some family history with the kids on our trip to Mohican State Park a couple weekends ago, and since persistantly cloudy and periodically thundery weather has hampered work on the shed, I'll share my story of Indians, the War of 1812, Johnny Appleseed, and Neil & Cecilia's great, great, great, great, great, great grandparents (that's six greats if anyone lost count) here as well.

John & Anne Catherine (Smith) Lambright were married at Frederick, Maryland in 1802.  A list of their nine children with their years and places of birth reads as follows:

1 - John Lambright, born in 1805 in Frederick County, Maryland
2 - Margaret Ann Lambright, born in 1807 in Frederick County, Maryland
3 - Levi Phillip Lambright, born in 1810 in Frederick County, Maryland
4 - Henry Lambright, born in 1812 in Richland County, Ohio
5 - Catherine Lambright, born in 1814 at Lancaster, Fairfield County, Ohio
6&7 - twins David & Michael Lambright, born in 1817 in Richland County, Ohio

8 - Rachel Lambright, born in 1819 in Richland County, Ohio
9 - Elizabeth Lambright, born in 1822 in Richland County, Ohio

Twins are always something of a novelty, but what stands out in this list for a genealogist is John and Anne's fifth child, Catherine.  Specifically, Catherine's place of birth.  The family obviously moved from Frederick County, Maryland to Richland County, Ohio sometime around 1811.  So why was Catherine born at Lancaster? 

The answer to that question precedes Catherine's birth by a couple of years.  With the outbreak of the War of 1812 there was concern that Indians living in Ohio, encouraged by leaders like Tecumsuh, would join the British in the struggle and be incited to attack white settlers.  The Lambright family at this time was newly settled in their home Richland County (the area is now part of Ashland County).  Located near them was the Indian community of Greentown.  According to a local history published later in the 19th century, the Greentown Indians "had always been friendly and neighborly with the whites, and quite a settlement of white people had gathered around them. [But] fearing that Tecumseh would influence these Indians to engage in the war, and that they would suddenly fall upon the settlers and murder them, the military authorities determined to remove them."

'Friendly and neighborly' the Greentown Indians may have been, but when a company of soldiers arrived to remove them to a camp near Piqua they were "thrown into a violent state of excitement".  Fearing violence, the soldiers withdrew and their captain - Captain Douglas - decided to consult with local resident James Copus before proceeding.  Copus had been the first white settler in Mifflin Township.  He was "well known to the Greentown Indians; was on the most friendly terms with them, and was much respected by them." The Captain went to Copus, urging him to use his influence with the Greentown Indians to secure their peaceful relocation.  Copus strongly opposed the military's treatment of the Indians: "his sympathies were with the Indians, and he was strongly opposed to their removal. He liked them as neighbors, believed they were inclined to peace, and could not see the necessity of driving them from their homes. He entered into a long conversation with the officer respecting the justness of his mission. He maintained that [the Indians] had suffered the most shameful wrongs, and that a God of mercy would require restitution from the hands of the whites."  Captain Douglas persisted, though, declaring that regardless of how anyone felt, orders must be followed.  Realizing finally that "if he did not use his influence and persuade the Indians to go peaceably, there would be bloodshed", James Copus consented to return to Greentown with the soldiers, on condition that "should the Indians quietly surrender, their lives and property should be protected."  This Captain Douglas promised.

The local history resumes:  "Through Mr. Copus' influence, the Indians were pursuaded to go quietly away with the soldiers, after receiving assurances that their property should lie protected and restored to them, and that they should be protected on the march.... A schedule of their property was taken by James Cunningham and Peter Kinney, and they took up their line of march across the Black Fork, turning their faces from a home they, as a tribe, were never to see again....   [But] some eight or ten soldiers straggled from Douglas' command, and remained behind at the Indian village. No sooner had Armstrong and his people disappeared in the forest, than these soldiers deliberately, to the surprise and distress of Mr. Copus, set fire to the village and burned it to the ground. Nearly everything the Indians left behind was consumed."  As they marched through the woods, the Greentown Indians saw the smoke rising over the trees behind them.

The first act of retaliation by the Indians came on August 13, 1812, when a band of Indian stragglers ambushed a white resident as he walked home through some woods.  Survivors of this attack immediately gathered in the blockhouse, where they determined someone should be sent out to warn other local families, and to secure the protection of troops stationed south at Mount Vernon. 

Enter Johnny Appleseed.  According to local legend the "eccentric but brave" Appleseed volunteered for the hazardous journey and started immediately.  "On this journey, Johnny Appleseed gave a warning cry at every cabin he passed, informing the inmates that Reed, Wallace and Jones were killed, and that the Indians were passing south. There was something awful, it is said in Johnny's warning cry as he pounded at the door of each cabin he passed, and shouted to the inmates: 'Flee! Flee! for your lives! The Indians are upon you.' and before they could open the door, or fairly comprehend his meaning, this angel of mercy had disappeared in the darkness and night, on his way with the fleetness of a deer to the next cabin.  And, pressing forward like the wind, left pallor and surprise behind."  (A side note here - while all accounts agree that Johnny Appleseed travelled through the area warning settlers of the Indians' actions, there is some disagreement exactly when this occurred.  The version quoted above places Appleseed's journey in August, while other versions say the journey came later in September.)

During that late summer of 1812 John and Anne Lambright were basically the same age Charles and I are now, with four children all under the age of 8.  I can't imagine the tension they and their neighbors must have lived with daily during those weeks.  That tension came to a head for the Lambright family a few weeks later, about September 10th. 

Earlier that day local resident Martin Rufner had heard of a band of Indians "well armed with guns, knives and tomahawks" in the area who had indicated they were headed to the Zimmer cabin.  His suspicions aroused, Rufner quickly rode to the Zimmer residence, beating the Indians there.  The Zimmer family numbered four - the elderly parents, nineteen year old son Phillip, and "beautiful" daughter Kate.  After a hurried discussion it was decided that Rufner should remain at the Zimmer residence to protect the family while young Phillip Zimmer went to warn other settlers and return with assistance. 

Returning to the local history: "Phillip Zimmer hastened to [James] Copus' cabin, and from there to John Lambright's, two miles further south on the Black Fork. Lambright returned with him, and, joined by Mr. Copus, they all proceeded together to the Zimmer cabin....When Philip returned with his party, nature had already thrown her sable mantle of night over the valley.  Except for the occasional hooting of an owl there was almost deathlike stillness.  No breath of wind stirred the leaves of the forest, and the stars shone with a pale, flickering light.  As the party neared the cabin, no light was seen and all was quiet and still within.  After a consultation, Mr. Copus advanced alone to the rear of the house and tried to peer through its window, but nothing could be seen in the darkness within.  He then cautiously crept upon his hands and knees around to the front of the building, and, finding the door ajar, endeavored to push it further open, but found something against it like a body, on the inside.  He then placed his hand through the opening of the door and found that the floor was covered with blood."

The local histories vary slightly on what happened next.  One states that Copus "Hasten[ed] back to Phillip and Lambright, who were concealed a short distance from the cabin, and stated his discoveries and convictions."  Another version states that, "Returning to the party, [Copus] thought it best not to tell Phillip what he had discovered...Enjoining silence, he led them quietly away, and when at a safe distance told them that he feared the family had been taken prisoners, and that they had better to go to the blockhouse for assistance." 

Regardless of how much James Copus did or did not reveal to his companions, both accounts agree that at this point Phillip Zimmer "became frantic with grief and excitement, and desired to rush into the cabin to learn the whole truth.  In this he was prevented by the others, who feared that the Indians were yet concealed in the cabin, awaiting his return. Persuading Phillip to accompany them, they hastened back to the cabin of Mr. Copus, and, taking the latter's family, they all proceeded as rapidly as possible to Mr. Lambright's. This family was added to their numbers, and they pushed on to the cabin of Frederick Zimmer, Jr., Phillip's brother, and he and his family joined the fugitives. They hastened along an Indian trail, near where the village of Lucas now stands, and stopped at the cabin of David Hill, where they remained until the next morning, when, accompanied by the family of Hill, all proceeded to the blockhouse at Beam's mill. This fort was then occupied by a company of soldiers under Capt. Martin. A party of these soldiers, accompanied by Mr. Copus, Phillip and Frederick Zimmer, Hill and Lambright, all well armed, proceeded by the most direct route through the forest, the trail to the Zimmer cabin.

Entering it, they found the old gentleman, the old lady and Catharine, all dead upon the floor, and dreadfully mangled. The gallant Rufner was lying dead in the yard. There was every evidence that he had made a desperate struggle for his life and that of the Zimmers. His gun was bent nearly double, and several of his fingers had been cut off by blows from a tomahawk. The struggle had finally ended by his being shot twice through the body. The details of this butchery could never be certainly known, as the prominent actors were all killed; all had also been scalped. It appeared that the table had been set with refreshments for the savages, and most of the food remained. Whether any of the Indians were killed, is not known; they would have taken their dead away with them, and destroyed all evidences, if such a catastrophe had happened to them. It is supposed that eight or ten Indians were engaged in this tragedy."

Details of what is known as the Zimmer Massacre are recounted in the local histories.  They are based on the confession of an Indian named Kanotchy who was taken prisoner some years later and who claimed to have been part of the Indian party involved.  According to these (rather romanticized) accounts the beautiful Kate Zimmer fainted at the beginning of the violence.  "When she came to her senses, she looked about upon a scene of blood and horror, and burst into a paroxysm of weeping. She begged the savages to spare her life, but all to no purpose. They first ascertained from her where her father's money was concealed, and then buried the tomahawk in her brain. While she was in a senseless condition, a consultation had been held over her, to decide whether they should kill her or take her prisoner. It was decided that her life should be taken, but still they hesitated, as no one wished to do the deed. At length it was decided that the one who should perform the deed, should be considered as possessing the greatest heart, whereupon this same Phillip Kanotchy stepped forward, exclaiming, " Me kill white squaw, me got big heart." When Kate saw the tomahawk descending, she raised a beautiful white arm to ward off the blow, which, falling upon the arm, nearly severed it in twain ; a second blow did the work — one quiver, and the lovely life went out."

Following the murder of the Zimmer family residents fled to the safety of the blockhouses, and "nearly every cabin was left tenantless."  But after five days at the blockhouse, James Copus desired to return to his family to their cabin.  Still fearing violence, a guard of nine soldiers accompanied the Copus family.  They found their cabin undisturbed, but that afternoon while gathering potatoes from a nearby field, the Copus's twelve year old daughter Sarah noticed an Indian hiding behind a bush.  She failed to mention to anyone what she had seen, later explaining that her father "was a very strict man in regard to truth, and, fearing she might have been deceived, did not wish to incur his displeasure by creating a false alarm."  There followed a restless night, the Copus family sleeping within the cabin and the soldiers in a nearby barn.

The following morning, the soldiers desired to wash at a spring located near the Copus cabin.  "Mr. Copus again cautioned the soldiers of impending danger, telling them that Indians were certainly in the neighborhood or his dogs would not have made such a noise, and urged them to take their guns with them to the spring. They promised to do so, but, on passing out, leaned them against the cabin and went on to the spring. Fatal mistake! The Indians, who had been lurking about the cabin all night, were watching for just such an opportunity as this. Swiftly, silently, stealthily, as a cat creeps upon its prey, they closed in upon the doomed cabin, and, before the soldiers were aware of their presence, were between them and their guns; then came the horrid war-whoop as a score or more of painted warriors rushed upon them with tomahawk and scalping-knife."

Of the nine soldiers in the guard, seven were at the spring.  Three of these were killed immediately.  Three more ran into the woods, but were also shortly killed.  Within the cabin, James Copus immediately grabbed his rifle and went to the door.  He opened the door just as the seventh soldier from the spring, George Dye, reached the house.  Dye was shot through the thigh as he entered the house and Copus was himself shot through the chest as he held the door open. 


"The scene within the cabin was pathetically dramatic.  He who an hour before stood as the protector of his family now lay in the throes of death, his grief-stricken wife and seven children grouped about his bedside...But they had soon to turn from the dead and assist the soldiers in their defense of the cabin.  Early in the contest, Nancy Copus, aged fifteen, was shot above the knee, inflicting a painful wound.  The children were then placed upstairs for greater safety, and that was but poor, for a number of the Indians were upon the hillside in front of the house and kept up an incessant fire upon the roof of the house, until the clapboards, it is said, afterward presented almost a sieve-like appearance....After five long hours of murderous assault from outside and of valiant defence from within, the awful contest ended by the Indians retreating, taking their dead with them and firing a parting volley into a flock of sheep which had huddled together in terror near the barn." 

Later that afternoon a larger detail of soldiers arrived at the Copus home, where they buried the dead and made an attempt to track the band of Indians responsible for the attack.  Failing to locate the Indians, the troops oversaw the journey of the Copus survivors and other settlers back to the safety of the blockhouse. 
"Stretchers were made upon which to carry the wounded, and the march of the whole party to Beam's blockhouse was commenced.  As it was late in the day when the start was made, they went only a short distance until they stopped for the night.  By that time the party had increased to about one hundred, and pickets were thrown out to guard against surprise....The march [to the Beam blockhouse] resumed the next morning...the distance being thirteen miles, [and] they arrived safely in the evening."

The Lambright family was surely among the group seeking the safety of the blockhouse that night.  When they left the blockhouse, John and Anne did not return to their home in the Richland County woods, but relocated their family south, to the safety of Lancaster, Ohio where just over a year late their daughter Catherine Lambright would be born.  (Although I have nothing to support this, I wonder if perhaps my 4th great grandmother was named in memory of the slain Kate Zimmer?)  Sometime around 1815 the family returned to Richland County.
 
The Lambright family's journey mirrored that made by James Copus's widow and children, who after two months at the block-house moved temporarily to Guernsey County.  "The journey consumed many days, during which most of the family were compelled, on little food, to walk over a rough path, wade small streams, encamp by the wayside, and always in fear of being pursued and captured by the savages.  They returned in 1815, and found their cabin as they had left it.  A few of the Greentown Indians had also returned and re-erected their cabins, but peace had come by that time...and they ever after lived in peace and friendship."

The quotes included here are all taken from late 19th century accounts of the Zimmer and Copus massacres.  The full accounts can be read here and here.
 

On September 15, 1882, exactly seventy years after Copus massacre, identical monuments were dedicated at the sites of the Copus and Zimmer homes.  It is said that the crowd the day of the dedication numbered over 10,000.

I have not been able to locate the Zimmer monument, but a sign along State Route 603 marks a winding stone road that leads to the Copus monument.  A picture taken at the monument's dedication in 1882 shows it standing in open fields, but the area today is rather dense woods (with a lot of mosquitoes the day the kids and I were there).

In an attempt to connect this post to the subject of this blog, let me close by continuing this story by a few years.  When she was nineteen years old, Catherine Lambright married George King.  Some years later they moved their family to Seneca County, where George built a house from stones found on his property.  The King stone house is today one of only six stone houses (that I'm aware of) remaining in this county.




A few years after moving into their own stone house, George & Catherine (Lambright) King's daughter Louisa King married John Corrigan.  And a few years after that, John & Louisa (King) Corrigan surely made a few trips to visit the family of John's sister Ann (Corrigan) Flack at another stone house.

That Which They Labored For...

I opened the local newspaper’s website this morning and immediately felt sick to my stomach.

I’ve tried to remain vague on this blog as to the Einsel House’s exact location in Ohio, but I’ll admit today that I live in Seneca County.  Seneca County - where thanks to Governor Kasich’s budget cuts the county commissioners have new ammunition in their seven year long fight to take a wrecking ball to the county’s 1884 Beaux Arts courthouse. And where just yesterday the same commissioners cited Kasich’s budget as justification to cut funding (all $42,000 a year) to the Seneca County Museum. And then while they were at it they also decided to sell the 1853 Greek Revival housing the museum and all of the contents thereof.

From the Toledo Blade article linked above:

The news, which came after no public discussion, was a shock to those who are involved with the museum and its foundation. Seneca County began its collection of local history artifacts in 1915 and moved into the Greek Revival home on Clay Street in 1942.

Some items could be sold by auction locally, [Commissioner Dave Sauber] said, while some of the more valuable items -- paintings and some antiques -- could be sold through New York auction houses.  The extensive collection includes numerous items that were locally manufactured or have local significance such as a large collection of Tiffin Glass. Many items were donated by residents who wanted them to be shared with the community. 

"Once it's gone, it's gone," [Museum Director Tonia] Hoffert said. "There are items in here that once they are sold off, you'll never find them again."

I don't even know what to say.  I just feel ill.

". . . Old buildings are not ours. They belong, partly to those who built them, and partly to the generations of mankind who are to follow us. The dead still have their right in them: That which they labored for . . . we have no right to obliterate. What we ourselves have built, we are at liberty to throw down. But what other men gave their strength, and wealth, and life to accomplish, their right over it does not pass away with their death . . ."    ~John Ruskin 1849, "The Seven Lamps of Architecture" chapter 6

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.

Not on the Homes Tour

We had about an hour of uncommitted time left after leaving the last stop on the holiday homes tour last Sunday, so Cecilia, her grandma and I headed north to drive by a particularly adorable abandoned house that I've always admired.  My mind clearly was not on the blog, because I failed to take any pictures. 

But, we decided to take back roads on our way home, and we stumbled across some more amazing abandonment.  And I remembered my camera. 

This Second Empire was unbelievable:

Check out the details along the eaves and in the slate roof:



One of the doors on the porch was hanging wide open, and my mom and I couldn't resist looking into the house.  (No, we didn't go in.) 

I never quite know how to feel when I see a house in this condition.  On one hand, I'm glad to know that the original trim and other material have been salvaged and will presumably live on in another home.  But on the other hand, I know that a gutted interior greatly decreases any chances that this house has at being renovated.  Realistically I know most of these houses will never be saved, but looking through the doorway to that gutted interior just seemed to drive home the sad fate that is most likely ahead for this home.

And about two miles down the road we found this little gem:

This house had a sign posted on the porch door so we didn't venture out of our car, but I really wanted to peek through those windows.  I suspect this house is close in age to our own home, and the original windows in this brick house make me drool.  Notice that the first story windows are 9-over-6, while the second story are 6-over-6.  Like this house, the Einsel House's first story windows are taller than its second story windows.  We know the EH's original second story windows were 6-over-6, but the original first story windows were replaced long ago and we do not know their original design.  I would love to know if the windows from this brick house would match what was originally on our own home. 

I think this spring I'll have to find a day just to drive back roads looking for more old abandoned houses.  : )

Holiday Home Tour

My mom's birthday is this coming weekend, but we treated her a week early by buying her a ticket to the Holiday Homes Tour sponsored by the local preservation society.  So last Sunday afternoon she, Cecilia and I spent several hours driving through the countryside to tour various houses.  I was most eager to see the two 1830s Greek Revival homes included in the tour.

I had my camera along, but did not take any pictures of the homes' interiors.  There were two reasons for this - first, I didn't want to take advantage of the homeowners' generosity; and second, every house was packed with people.  Any interior picture I took would have revealed more about current trends in winter appearal than it would have about the architecture of the homes in which the pictures were taken. 

But I did take a few exterior pictures.  : )

The picture below is a bit bittersweet for me.

That is very similar to the side porch that our house used to/should have.  Granted, our side porch was smaller and a bit less ornate.  Our porch had only one window with the door (although my picture cuts it off, the house porch pictured above had two windows with a centered door) and our porch had only two pillars (compared to four), but still the idea and the feel is exactly what I hope we can someday bring back to our house.

This is what we've got now:

But in my mind... 

I'll start by taking out the paneled wall with the window.  Put two simple square pillars flush against the stone walls to the left and the right.  Give the pillars some simple molding on the very top and bottom.  I might even add some decorative wood trim like pictured above, but it's nothing too intricate or ornate, this isn't the Victorian era yet.  The porch is, say, five or so feet deep.  Its back wall consists of a door (into the dining room) to the left and a window to the right.  Now - I'll put a divided pane window back into that shuttered hole in the small stone wall.  Add appropriately-sized louvered wood shutters.  (Yes - they have to be wood shutters.)  With shutter dogs.  (I love shutter dogs!)  Now, I'll settle into a rocking chair on my lovely porch.  There's a terra cotta pot on the top step in front of me with some red flowers in it - geraniums, maybe, or begonias.  My handsome husband steps out from the dining room, joining me with a glass of cool lemonade to sip while we enjoy the view.  (It's almost always mid-June in my imagination.)  The kids are laughing while playing on their swingset to our right while to our left a barn cat or two - or five - lounge on the stone walls in front of the springhouse.  Our whole view is framed by the tree lined creek, which can very faintly be heard gurgling in the background....

It's going to happen someday.  Might take 30 years, I'll admit.  But it'll happen.  Even if it's my grandkids playing on the swingset.

(Which reminds me of one of the guests at our open house last October.  While looking at some pictures of the house taken just after we bought it she looked up at me and said, "Wow.  You must have had some, uh, imagination when you bought this place."  If she only knew!)

But - back to the present.  And the home tour.  The second 1830's home on the tour was my favorite.  I've driven by it (perhaps a bit too slowly I admit) multiple times to admire it.  After seeing the interior and hearing the home's history my admiration is even greater.  Vandals started a fire in the house in the mid 1950's and it sat vacant and boarded up for over 30 years.  The current owners began their renovation in 1989 and have done a remarkable job. 

They reconstructed that front porch from original pieces fished out of a gulley alongside the house. 

Here's a side profile of the house:

One of my favorite features is this picket fence along the west side of the (new) garage:

I want to do something similar in front of our kitchen - a picket fence surrounding the area in front of our home's frame wing, with the sidewalk down the middle dividing the area into a small herb garden to the right and a small vegetable garden to the left.  (And I hope to turn this daydream into reality well before 2040.)

But as cute as the picket fence and little front porch on the yellow Greek Revival are, neither is the home's focal point.  The house's most stunning feature can not be seen when driving by.  You've got to get behind the front door to see this:

I really didn't take any interior pictures during the tour - this one came from the local newspaper.  But that staircase was just too stunning not to share. 

All in all it was a lovely afternoon, and I'm grateful to the homeowners who were willing to open their homes for the tour.  It's such a joy to see old homes celebrated as old homes and not remodeled to within an inch of their lives.  Perhaps someday, quite a while from now, we'll have the Einsel House polished up enough (and stuffed with enough antique furniture) that we can return the favor open our own front door for a holiday homes tour. 

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.