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Welcome to The World’s Largest Basket! The Longaberger Basket Building in Newark, Ohio, has long been a favorite roadside attraction. Formerly the Longaberger Basket Company headquarters, it remains a fixture in the imaginations of those who unexpectedly see the world’s largest picnic basket rise out of the treetops along Ohio State Route 16. Map It.
We moved a temporary “bridge out” sign so we could drive our car across. Clearly, the bridge was not out, but we were—for a good time.
We had driven well across rural Lorain County in pursuit of a late October fright night like generations of Northern Ohio teens before us. It was a rite of passage to try and brave the dark valley and legend of Gore Orphanage.
Matt and Dusty wanted candy. We pulled off at a rickety old roadside store, and they went inside.
“Look, is that someone leaning out of the window above the store?” asked one of the girls in the backseat.
I rolled the window down.
“Do-o-o-on’t go-o,” the stranger lobbed down to us, face flickering in neon against the dark.
We looked at each other inside the car, silently mouthing, “What the …!”
When we looked back up, the stranger in the window was gone.
“What the heck was that?” asked one of the girls aloud.
Surely, it was just some guy having fun with us.
Matt and Dusty jumped back in the car. They didn’t believe a word out of our mouths about the stranger in the window.
Eventually, we arrived at a desolate country road that led down a steep, narrow hill. We noticed but ignored the “no trespassing” signs riddled with bullet holes. Near the bottom of the hill, a turn-off to the left veered so sharply it was difficult to see. This offshoot was even steeper and narrower and led to blackness. Our other option was to continue the main route and ascend the other side of the valley.
We chose blackness.
With windows rolled down on a crisp fall night, we listened as we puttered to “Crybaby Bridge.”
“Kill the engine!”
We listened. Then, we got out and leaned against the metal bridge.
“I heard it.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t hear a thing!”
The legend was that long ago, there was an orphanage that burned to the ground, taking with it dozens of kids. If you listened closely, you could hear their faint cries echoing through the valley. Oh, and if you turned your car off on Heartbeat Bridge, it wouldn’t restart until you pushed it across to the other side. So, we intentionally left it out of gear to spook the girls. They even gave it a try before we pushed it to the other side. Wouldn’t you know it, it started right up. You could probably catch us winking and smirking at each other on the sly if you were looking in the rear-view mirror.
We continued down the all-but-forgotten road, winding around a bend one way and then back another before pulling over to park along the edge of the road.
“They say the foundation of the orphanage is that way,” Matt said, pointing a flashlight toward the trailhead, where woods met an open field.
Before going there, we ventured up the road ahead on foot. A lonely house was at the end of a long, wooded driveway.
“No way! Someone lives down here!” Dusty whisper-yelled.
Pushing uphill, around a bend, the road was barricaded. We went back to the car.
“Oh no, cops!” I said.
“Those aren’t cops,” Matt noticed as they neared.
They were a friendly group and led us straight to the foundation. But not before passing a lone pillar with graffiti warning, “You are now entering Hell.”
We sat on the remaining foundation blocks and befriended the new carload of strangers. They decided to leave before us, but we weren’t far behind.
As they drove away, I went for some kicks. I threw my flashlight as hard as possible, end over end, high over their windshield, freaking them out. They sped off. Pleased with my shenanigans, I ran, laughing, to pick up my flashlight. Within minutes, it died. Worse, unbeknownst to me, my car keys bounced out of my unzipped jacket pocket.
We knew we were up a creek without a paddle after our failed attempts to search for the lost keys. The other flashlight went dead. So, Matt and I left Dusty with the girls and went to the old house to ask for batteries or a flashlight. It was pretty late at night.
A freak rain shower drove down, forcing us to return to the car. Anxiety and tempers flared.
“Shut up!” Matt yelled.
“What the …”
We were all staring out the back window at a clunker of a pickup truck pulling off the road near our car.
“Get down.”
Our car was a clunker, so it probably looked abandoned.
Peeking over the back seat, we all witnessed a man jump from the truck. He was carrying something long. He let three dogs out the passenger door, and they all ran into the field together and out of sight.
“What do we do?”
POP!
“What the hell was that?” the girls cried.
“Was that a gunshot?” I asked aloud.
“Here he comes!” Dusty warned.
The man emerged with two dogs, hopped in his truck, and slowly motored away.
When we finally peeled ourselves from the floor mats, the rain had stopped. It was past midnight. We were stranded …far from home…in an era before the public was armed with cell phones and GPS.
Amazingly, another vehicle eventually appeared. No, it was two cars carrying more teenagers. They were locals. One agreed to drive me back to his parent’s house so I could call my mom. She would have to come out with a spare key.
“Now, listen carefully, Mom. At that point, you’ll have to get out and move a sign that says bridge out, but don’t worry; you can cross. Ignore the no-trespassing signs. Go down the road that looks like a car should not go down. It gets steep and narrow…” continued my directions to my mom. As I heard myself explain, I knew I wouldn’t see the light of day for quite some time.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun!
Watlao Buddhamamakaram is a remarkably beautiful Buddhist Temple in Columbus, Ohio
Location: (Map It) 3624 Bexvie Ave in Columbus, Ohio
This stunning Loa Buddhist temple is nestled in the Bexley neighborhood on the east side of Columbus. The beautiful structure is amidst a sprawling park-like setting among a community of residential homes. It is a place of peace. Although it is open to the public, be respectful, as it is a place of worship. The monks were very welcoming when I parked in the Temple parking lot and asked if I could walk around and take some photos. It’s an inspiring place for those looking to reach a deep meditative state or simply relax and unwind. It’s truly an awe-inspiring site.
Schmidt’s Fudge House has mastered an old-world technique for making Belgian-inspired fudge! Cooking with Paula Deen named it the fourth-best fudge made in America! After it’s cooked in copper kettles, it is hand-crafted and finished on marble tables. It achieves a sophisticated flavor by combining ingredients like Belgian chocolate, creamy caramel, smooth peanut butter, fluffy marshmallows, walnuts, almonds, and roasted pecans into the mix. It’s so good that celebrities such as Martha Stewart and Adam Richman (Man vs. Food Travel Channel Show) have made special journeys to get a taste of this treat nestled in the brick streets of German Village in Columbus. Their chocolate is also out of this world delicious! Plan your visit at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/schmidts-fudge-haus/.
My parents moved from the big city of Cleveland to what was then the sleepy farm town of Avon Lake before the I-90 freeway stretched that far west. Mom took a break from being a secretary while my sister and I were preschoolers. Dad drove Lake Road daily to get to his tool and die factory job in The Land. There and back, he’d see the alluring roadside family diner in Rocky River – Bearden’s, advertising their famous steakburger – always fresh, never frozen! – since 1948.
We were the signature blue-collar household from back in the day. Eating out was a true treat. And we only did it once per week, on Friday, for supper. There was always an air of excitement when we’d pile into the car without our seatbelts, roll down the windows, and feel the crisp breeze coming off Lake Erie, waves glimmering in the golden hour. Mom and Dad would laugh—argue—laugh in a weekly ritual that washed away their stress and paved the way for a weekend to get lost in. It usually started with the lit-up sign appearing through the windshield, luring my sister and me to cross the territorial imaginary line in the middle of the backseat to take in the ceremonial view, smile, and then retreat to our corners, saying, “Eww, don’t touch me!”
Inside, we always grabbed a booth, plopped down, and waited for the waitress (always the same lady) while the model train wowed my sister and me with its loops around the dining room from overhead. We never needed a menu. We ordered the same thing time after time. Dad got the steakburger with everything, fries, and Coca-Cola. Oh, and a side salad. The rest of us got the Kiddie Special – yes, even Mom. She said the proportions were more to her liking. Afterward, Dad ordered shakes all around.
For this hour per week, life was never better.
Try it. Bearden’s is still there—now a cool, cheerful, remodeled retro 1950s roadside diner that’s been kid-friendly since 1948!
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
The mysterious “Merchant Ball” revolving in the Marion, Ohio cemetery is a two-and-a-half-ton black granite orb atop a five-foot pedestal. Tiny stone balls surround it in its grassy perimeter. There is one spot on the giant orb that was not polished – the spot that originally rested on the pedestal when erected in 1896.
The Merchant family created this gravesite in the 1890s. The smaller balls mark individual burials around the centerpiece marker. Ripley’s Believe It Or Not featured it in 1929. Why? Because the two-and-a-half-ton black granite orb was mysteriously turning over time unbeknownst to the naked eye. But the movement was obvious because the original unpolished resting spot became visible, eventually traveling to the ball’s side.
Needless to say, this strange phenomenon has become a peculiar tourist attraction ever since. And to this day, nobody has affirmatively answered the question, why? Although plenty of speculative theories and scientific analyses swirl around the enduring oddball.
Click to enlarge the map to find
the Merchant Ball in the Marion Cemetery
Cornering Ohio…
My son looked out his side window and said, “Wow!” He was surprised to see a Washington D.C.-type monument pop into view as we navigated the streets of an Ohio small town – Marion – returning from his college graduation. My son isn’t easily impressed, but he wanted to pull off and explore this lovely 10-acre site. He had nodded off, and when he opened his eyes to see the stunning white marble memorial against the lush green grass and trees framing the grounds, he must have thought we were visiting his sister again in the nation’s Capital.
At the corner of Delaware Ave. and Vernon Heights Blvd. in Marion, Ohio, lies our 29th President and his wife in a wonderous circular monument akin to something you may see in Greece. The marble steps lead to the open-air cloister at its center. Atop the grass are the tombs of our 29th President of the United States, Warren Gamaliel Harding, and former First Lady Florence Mabel Harding. Harding lived in rural Ohio most of his life except for his years in the White House from 1921 to 1923. His presidential term was cut short, and he died of a heart attack. He was a popular president, but his legacy is marred by scandals that surfaced later.
Nearby are the https://www.ohiotraveler.com/harding-presidential-sites/. For more “Cornering Ohio” and other blog posts, visit https://www.ohiotraveler.com/ohio-travel-blogs/.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
This generation will never experience what it took to get concert tickets back in the day!
My friend Matt was an 80s teen who defined the Generation X reputation for growing up unsupervised. His parents were avid RVers. Matt was allowed to stay home while they went on weekend road trips when he was in high school.
On Friday, I was called out of class because of an emergency in my family, and my dad was coming to pick me up in front of the school. I waited, very concerned, wondering if a grandparent had passed. A huge RV rolled up in front of me in the bus lane. The door swung open. It was Matt!
“Get in!”
“What the heck, man?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Picking you up!”
“Dude (we used to say ‘dude’ a lot), my dad is …”
“I know; hop in, sonny,” he interrupted.
Here, he skipped school (and HE was the honor student) because his parents went on a trip without the RV. He grew bored, so he pretended to be my dad and called the school, staging the whole family emergency hoax. I laughed, somewhat shocked at the magnitude of this. Then I jumped in and didn’t look back.
That day, we learned Springsteen had announced a summer concert tour, and Cleveland was one of the stops. We circled the date that tickets would go on sale and made a pact that no matter what, we’d do whatever it took to go.
It was late at night when we opened our house after a long family vacation.
I had plans to meet Matt in the morning to go downtown and buy tickets for the concert. It would be the first day for tickets to go on sale. This was back when The Boss was selling out stadiums in just hours.
A local television news station reported a line forming around Cleveland Municipal Stadium hours before the box office opened; some were already camped out for one or two days.
It was the middle of the night, and I was wide awake. I couldn’t wait. So I grabbed my car keys, and before I knew it, I was on my way to get Matt – but he didn’t know.
I didn’t want to wake up his parents, so I climbed on top of their motor home to get on the roof of their house. Matt slept on the second floor. His window overlooked the garage roof, so I navigated my way there.
He didn’t share his room with anyone but slept on the top bunk of a bunk bed. His head was right by the open window. The only thing between us was a screen. His dog Bandit started to growl – low and then louder. I tried calming the dog, letting him know he knew this cat burglar. I feared he’d wake the whole house if his growling became full-fledged barking.
It was dark inside, so I didn’t see Matt rolling to see what his dog was snarling at. When his eyes met mine only inches away… Well, talk about a wake-up call. Imagine opening your eyes from a dead sleep to see a face peering in your window inches from yours. Matt sprang from the mattress, slammed his head on the ceiling, and fell off the upper bunk onto the floor.
I almost rolled off the roof in terror myself. Then, I just tried to contain my laughter, which came in snorts as I tried to hold it in. Matt gathered his senses, climbed back to the window, and gave me an obscenity-laced greeting, albeit in a whisper-yell.
It was a small miracle that nobody else in the house woke up.
Down at the stadium, we circled the parking lot and found the end of the line where others were camping out. We parked nearby and joined the growing throng of people. Some were better prepared than we were. Leaning up against the concrete wall, sitting on the asphalt, we soon realized it would be a long night.
“Ya know, the backseat ‘ell pop right out in your kind of car,” Matt surmised.
Within minutes we were sitting in hillbilly comfort. Then a guy returned to his group behind us with so many doughnuts they shared with us. They were the best doughnuts I ever had in my life.
Hours later – most people around us sleeping – I opened my eyes and noticed it was dawn. I got up and stretched. When I did, I drifted away from the side of the building and peered around the corner – nobody was in front of us. I casually walked up to Matt, kicked his foot several times, and motioned for him to quietly check it out.
Without words being spoken, we both walked. Our pace quickened. We thought we were sly, but our movement didn’t go unnoticed. There was a chain reaction. We peeked over our shoulders. A mob was thickening and gaining. We flat-out sprinted from there. It probably looked like we were rock stars trying to outrun hundreds of rabid fans when in reality, they just wanted tickets as badly as we did. We turned another corner of the stadium and plunged into a sea of people. Police were holding everyone back.
“If you’re on this side of the barricade, I’m sorry, you’re not getting tickets,” said one cop after another into megaphones. “Please turn around and go home.”
People were disgruntled but reluctantly complying, for the most part. Some tested the officers and were met with more forceful directives. We quickly assessed the scene and bolted over a concrete barricade into some sort of cement trench. We were able to run, hunched over, avoiding being seen. I don’t know how we found this and why nobody else did, but once we were past the police barrier, we sprang from our trench and joined the mob on the other side.
There was only one gate, one turnstile, one ticket window, and thousands of people fighting to get to it.
The head of the production company pleaded over loudspeakers, “We don’t want another Cincinnati.”
He referred to The Who concert several years earlier, where people stampeded eleven fans to death as they stormed the entry doors.
“If this doesn’t get orderly RIGHT NOW, we’ll close her down, and NOBODY will get tickets,” the man shrieked at the top of his lungs.
The unruly crowd somehow demonstrated just enough civility for the mayhem to continue.
More than an hour later, Matt and I were in the final stretch. We were jammed in like sardines between two metal railings leading up to the ticket window.
“Give me your money so we can make sure we get tickets together,” Matt said.
I didn’t want to abandon him, but I had an idea. Believe it or not, the other side of the railing was relatively calm. I slipped through and then turned to help Matt. The space between the railings was wide enough for one and a half bodies. However, there were three and a half in that space, at times with nothing but Matt’s arse on the inside. He was getting crushed. Whenever that happened, he fought with flailing elbows and fists, cursing, to regain space so he could breathe. I helped by pushing and shoving people so they’d give him room. It didn’t matter that most were just as innocent as he was – just victims of circumstance. But this was survival of the fittest. Matt’s reprieve would last about 90 seconds before the shoving from others forced a repeat scenario. It was grueling for Matt on the inside. I had the easy task – shove without getting hit, mostly. Others saw the brilliance of our teamwork, and before I knew it, I had company on my side of the rail.
Eventually, Matt scored tickets. Battle-scarred, Matt more than I, we walked away from the mayhem to the other side of the stadium, which was mostly vacant now. We popped my backseat into the car and drove home, elated.
The concert rocked for over three hours, while a typical concert lasted 90 minutes. Later, a Springsteen gig made the record book for one of the longest concerts ever by a musician.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
I was called into the principal’s office at my middle school along with a close friend. He told us that we were too young to work, according to child labor laws. So, that spring, we had to quit our jobs as caddies at the nearby country club. Instead of caddying there, we rode our bikes twice the distance to another country club. It was across the county line, so we figured the law wouldn’t catch up to us. After school let out for the summer, we returned to the crime scene. Anyway, you sliced it; these were long bike rides.
It amazed me how cold it could be early morning and how hot it got later in the day. And when you rode a bike, it was colder still. An adrenaline rush got my blood flowing like clockwork every morning when I neared the country house on the other side of the railroad tracks before meeting up with my friend. I pedaled as fast as I could down the slope on the other side. I had to gain enough speed to coast by the farmhouse and put my feet up by my handlebars. There he was, barking and running into the road, nipping at my empty metal pedals. No sooner than he gave up the chase did my momentum slow enough to force my feet back to the pedals. It was always a close call. If that dog stuck with it for 15 more feet, I’d be breakfast.
At the caddy shack, the caddy master called me over to a foursome ready for a loop. There was snickering behind the first tee. Later, someone intentionally matched a preacher with a repeatedly loud foul mouth. His running with the potty mouth was as sure a bet each time out as the dog who gave chase to me every morning. Not until the third hole did the foul mouth know he was in the company of a man of the cloth. That’s when everyone except the foul mouth burst into laughter. Soon, more cursing drowned out the laughter. Later, I heard people say they could hear the laughter and cursing back at the clubhouse.
My golfer was on the quiet side compared to the others. I didn’t know if he was new, subordinate, or just quiet by nature. He was a stroke or two in last place. I handed him a wedge for a chip shot out of the sand trap. He got a hold of that thing, and it screamed out of there so fast and hard that I thought I might have to yell, “Fore!”
It ricocheted off an oak branch overhead, abruptly sending it into the pin’s flag, falling straight down into the cup. It happened in the blink of an eye. I had never seen anything like it, so I broke character and roared in delight. It was a fantastic shot in my mind. When I caught the facial expression of my golfer, I was puzzled because he looked downright embarrassed.
I asked him, off to the side, “Wasn’t that incredible?”
He gave me half a smile on the sly, tasseled my hair, and walked to the next tee. Later, he tipped me the most I ever got that summer.
After my morning round, I decided to hang out for some caddy baseball and try to get a second loop after lunch. One of the caddies in this group was just plain tough as nails. He was older than me and from a much tougher neighborhood. I wondered how he got to the country club every day. His golfer was one of those who had to insult people to act like a big shot, and he demeaned his caddies.
Nobody wanted to caddy for him, but this city kid said, “I don’t care; a loop’s a loop.”
It was a scorcher of an afternoon, so we rolled up our short sleeves to try and fade out the infamous caddy-tan lines on our arms. Some called them farmers’ tans. We called them caddy tans. When the city kid rolled up his sleeves, his homemade tattoos showed.
His golfer insisted that he keep his sleeves down, “A little more class here….”
When nobody else looked, I saw the tatted caddy drop a mouthful of spit into the guy’s golf bag. He took more verbal abuse than I figured even he could stand. I began to think he must really need to make a buck. He sucked it up, rebelled behind the scenes, and marched like a real trooper.
It was somewhere along the back nine that fate and justice crossed paths.
The big-shot golfer sliced a shot off the fairway into a tree. You could see the ball fall down but not out. It rested on a branch about 15 feet high. The golfer out cursed the morning foul mouth. During his tirade, he spun around and released his iron. The golf club flung round and round, landing in a pond.
“Get my club! Then, get my ball!” he said to the tough kid.
To his credit, the kid casually walked to the pond, never uttering a word.
But then, he turned and waited for the golfer to look.
“Come on, come on, we don’t have all day,” the golfer said for the kid to hear.
When he turned toward his friends, he uttered some more insults under his breath. His friends didn’t look at him. They looked past him and nodded that he better look for himself, too.
The kid was standing with the entire golf bag and its very expensive contents over his head.
“What the …”
Before the big shot could finish his sentence, the kid spun around as the golfer did before launching his club. Only this time was the kid launching the entire bag …deep into the pond. Then, he turned, flashed two flagrant middle fingers, and walked off into the sun, a renegade and Caddyshack legend, never to be seen again.
You never knew what you’d get from one day to the next at these country clubs.
When I first started caddying, we started our training as cart runners. Like in the movies, our caddy master sometimes threatened that golf carts at the club would replace us if we didn’t do well. I didn’t understand why some people would take a golf cart and ask for a caddy. But, on my only cart running day, it became clear that it was either to make sure a ball never got lost or for unhappy people to take out their frustrations on us kids. An older kid and I were assigned to one couple and a cart each. It was two husband and wife teams.
My couple had me stand down the fairway a bit from the tee to better keep my eye on the ball. There was a creek that split the fairway on this hole. When the guy hit his shot, I thought I saw it thud into the mud with no splash into the far bank, so that I couldn’t be sure, yet I was.
He was not a bad guy, but his wife was plain mean to me all afternoon.
“Didn’t you see it! Where did it land?” She barked at me, sure that I lost it because they could not find it.
“It landed right there,” I insisted.
But the ball had completely disappeared. To my surprise, the husband shuffled down to the water’s edge and had me guide him. I knew he was over the spot, so I said it should be there.
“If you are wrong, this will be your last day here!” the wife deadpanned, glaring through me.
In my mind, I was praying. Unlike the tough kid, I was pretty shy at this time.
The husband rose a muddy forearm with a smile and the ball.
“Check it. Make sure it’s a Titleist 4,” she said with anger in her voice.
She sped off with the cart without him to find her second shot when he confirmed.
“Damn good eye, kid,” he winked at me.
Once we seemed to be caddies that’ll last the summer, we were rewarded with caddy golf day. Caddies were allowed to golf on the members’ course Monday evening. It was a big deal for us. But none of us had ever really golfed before, except maybe Jimmy. Jimmy was swinging and missing. It was with a fresh divot and not the ball when he connected. The golf pro for the country club rolled up on a cart and watched the circus for about three minutes before jumping to his feet and walking over to us.
“Look, I can’t let you tear up the course,” he said. “Somebody better show me I can trust you out there.”
I never held a club other than a putt-putt putter, but my friends gave me up to sink or swim for us all. Now, I had plenty of hours watching people golf, and I had taken some practice swings earlier. I stepped up, put a ball on a tee, and positioned myself. Silence fell across everyone’s lips.
SMMMMACK
That ball went a decent distance and bounced some more straight down the fairway. It was pure beginner’s luck, but we all contained our giddiness and looked to the pro for approval.
“That was a nice shot,” he said with surprise.
He got on his cart and moved on.
On a slow afternoon, the caddy master came to me and my friend Scott.
He wanted us to drive a rigged-up cart out onto the driving range to shag balls. It was a treat, and he promised some favors in return. Well, Scott and I together doing something like this needed very little to get a serious case of the giggles.
Scott was behind the steering wheel, and I was in the passenger seat—the only part of the cart unprotected by a cage-type enclosure to keep balls from hitting the driver. Whenever he turned and exposed my bare side to the golfers teeing off, our narrative grew louder and louder.
We were dramatizing being under attack, but I was under attack, not him.
Some balls hit the cart, and we reacted without a filter. Then one rattled into the cart and bounced into Scott. That got us to peak form.
The golfers were clearly delighted in aiming at this raucous duo for entertainment. Meanwhile, we were out there exploring George Carlin’s list of words you could never say on television …with gusto… laughing at the top of our lungs.
But we didn’t think we were loud enough to be heard by the people at the range.
Then, our caddy master raced out to us on a golf cart.
He tried to yell through his gut-busting laughter,
“You clowns are done! Head back to the Caddyshack!”
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
When I was seven, Dad took Grandpa and me to a ballgame. It was my first.
Grandpa told me how he fell in love with the sport when he was around my age, several years after emigrating from Sicily. Dad went to get some foot longs, and I sat beside my grandpa, holding onto my little league glove. I heard the crack of the bat and saw the ball coming closer – Closer – CLOSER. We were in the upper deck down the third baseline. When that ball whizzed in slow motion directly over my head, it looked as big as a basketball. I yanked back my outstretched glove because I wanted no part of it.
I shook Grandpa afterward and screamed, “Did you see that!”
He grunted while he looked through his binoculars at home plate, “See what, see what?”
He had no clue what just happened. Little did he know that was the moment I became a fan of the game and his team, the Cleveland Indians, just like my father before me.
It’s funny, but I don’t remember my childhood friends or classmates being Cleveland Indians baseball fans in the 1970s and 1980s. Maybe it was too painful to admit openly.
When I was in high school, the manager was probably best remembered for charging the mound at an opposing pitcher, pathetically failing to land a karate kick. To add insult to injury, the pitcher dropped our manager with one punch. But this was my team, my lovable losers. I played in a world of possibility, whereas nearly everyone else I knew played in a world of probability. Life is safer their way. But perhaps it’s with my mindset that I entered an essay contest by a Cleveland newspaper – “Why Do You Like The Indians?” Now a teenager, I read the newspaper’s sports section daily, so I wrote and sent in my essay.
I won!
Thinking back, I wonder if I was the only one who bothered with the contest.
Nonetheless, the prize was “dinner” with the Indians and a free ballgame. Dinner with the Indians meant I got to invite a friend to accompany me to the old Municipal Stadium for a luncheon that launched the team’s winter press tour. Only the manager and a couple of players showed up to talk to the room full of reporters, and afterward, I got to wait in line to shake the hand of a forgettable rookie infielder.
When Mom dropped me and my friend Scott at the stadium, we immediately seized a plush booth. It was long – very long – and center stage. It was in the back of the room next to huge windows high above the ground outside. It had our names all over it, so to speak. It was ours! Until some lackey in a suit scrambled across the room to us as some old guy, and his entourage entered.
“Hey kids, you can’t sit there!” he said alarmingly.
“Sure we can,” I said.
“We are,” said Scott, shooting a smile my way, knowing he had just slipped a cocky remark under the radar.
The man demanded we move.
“But I won the contest,” I said, as a matter of fact.
He looked dumbfounded. Then, he saw the entourage nearing and looked back at us in desperation.
“You gotta go now,” he pleaded, reaching for my arm.
I pulled away and scooted farther into the long and deep wrap-around booth out of reach.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked the old man arriving next to the table. His entourage fanned out around it.
The scared-looking man (lackey) sounded like he had diarrhea of the mouth, so I explained.
Laughing, the old man said, “You boys have a good time,” and left us to the enormous booth.
Then, he and his entourage pulled tables and chairs together in the center of the room, displacing some adults.
As they crowded around a hastily made large table by clustering together smaller tables right in front of us, we sat back and ordered meals fit for kings. I sat at one end of the long booth, and Scott sat on the far end. You could have sat half a dozen adults on one side between us.
This was our day, and nobody was going to take it away.
Later, the old man was introduced as the general manager of the Cleveland Indians. My instinct was to boo, but I bit my tongue. We all knew how the Indians were mishandled, but I couldn’t help but appreciate his kindness toward us.
On the way out, Scott and I shared an elevator with a rising star named Pat Tabler. He had a giggling girl under each arm, making him a bigger hero than just a moment earlier, even though he didn’t notice us in the tight space we shared going down.
Many years later, it was time to pass down the family tradition.
My daughter, Cara, was only four years old, and we were going to move from Cleveland to Cincinnati because of a job offer. Before we left, I wanted to take my little girl to experience the magic of Jacob’s Field.
We got on what Cara called “the train ride,” or the Rapid Transit, and settled into a seat facing backward. She liked that. I didn’t.
The man sitting in front of us had really big hair.
“Dad – look, that man has a comb stuck in his head.”
I saw the big hair shift, but it did not make a complete turn.
After that, we arrived, stood at the end of the line, and walked into the ballpark.
I didn’t give my kids a lot by modern standards, but I flat-out spoiled my daughter on that day. Program – yes. Hot dog – yes. Peanuts – yes. Cracker Jack – yes. After all this and three innings, Cara saw a man with a big tray of clouds on sticks, colors dancing in the light one section over. She followed him with her eyes. Finally, she asked about this strange sight. Now, her only mission in life was to try this thing called cotton candy.
Half an inning later, she was twisted backward, thumping my shoulder without looking, as she panted, “He’s coming, Dad. Dad, here he comes.”
I decided to make her earn this treat and said that she had to get his attention to come down to us, or she would be out of luck.
She asked how to do it, so I told her to yell, “Cotton Candy here!”
So she did! LOUDLY and REPEATEDLY.
Seeing how she handled the entire transaction herself, many in our section gave her a standing ovation.
Her head swelled.
I had to tilt my head back to contain the pooling water building up in my eyes.
When the game was over, we soaked in the experience for a while longer until we were among the last people in the stands.
“Dad, I love our team. Did they win?”
“I’ll always remember this day too, honey.”
And whether their name is Indians or Guardians, Cleveland will always be my tribe.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
This Amish Country staple is one of the tastiest stops you’ll find. I stumbled upon Coblentz Chocolate Company on a rainy travel day last week. Oh, I’ve heard rave reviews about it, so I popped in. And what a treat it was!
There was a viewing window to see the hand-made sweet concoctions on their way to my goodie bag. Known for fresh ingredients and premium chocolate, I tried to decide between Almond Bark, Cherry Cordials, Chocolate Caramels, and Peanut Clusters. Since the Peanut Clusters have reached legendary status over the 30+ years since Coblentz opened, I chose those … and MORE!
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Taste the Legendary Mother Mohawk Sandwich at the
Old Mohawk Restaurant in German Village
Yah-yah, the true staple of the Old Mohawk Restaurant, is its famous Mohawk Turtle Soup, a tradition for more than 70 years, but it was the legendary Mother Mohawk Sandwich that I look forward to tasting again.
Heck, it was so good, I think it knew it because the sauce flashed me a smile! See the pic if you don’t believe me!
Anyway, this tasty bite is grilled roast beef and homemade chicken salad topped with Swiss cheese on marble rye bread served with a side of caraway horseradish sauce.
Old Mohawk’s historic building dates back to Prohibition when it, as legend has it, served as a Speakeasy. It’s even rumored that the original owner raised the turtles for the popular turtle soup in the basement of the building.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
The creek was long, and on one side, it had rolling hills. Shaped like three sides of a square, we’d pick it up at a corner where our trail led. There was nothing but a mile or so of woods between our backyards and this “playground.”
One day, we followed the creek up around another of its bends. Next to the grocery store was the American Legion. This was the time of year they would have live fire shooting ranges – turkey shoots, I think they used to call them. I imagine if you missed the target, the round ended up in the woods. They weren’t shooting, so we didn’t have to get our feet muddy in the creek. The creek on this stretch had no hills, but its earthen walls were steep, camouflaged by bushes and saplings.
We decided to venture up to the grocery store. Men were at the dock unloading huge sides of beef. Out of the truck, they would slide one slab at a time down a cable attached to a hook. It would slam into the other slabs at the end of the tilted line. We sat on the concrete ledge and whooped it up when a good slam could be heard. We went nuts when meat parts flung off. The workers were grinning as they worked, letting us carry on.
When they were done, they took a break, so we slipped inside to see what happened next. The saw noise was deafening, so when a guy yelled at us, we only saw lips moving. We exited at the nearest door and were now inside the store by the meat department and a water fountain. We strategically hit an assortment of free sample tables and actually satisfied our hunger.
Eric suggested we play hide-and-seek. The game had never been this much fun. After a while, we decided on one more round. Then, we’d go back to our playground.
I found the perfect spot. It was the cereal section. I moved enough boxes to slide my little body behind an outer wall of cereal. Then, I pulled one box over to hide my face. I was so proud of my creativity. I knew I’d never be found.
About the time I was cramping and dozing off, I thought about ditching my spot to see what everyone else was up to. That’s when I heard someone closing in. They were onto me. They must have been. Box after box was being moved to see what was behind it, I presumed. My anxiety from the anticipation of being found was off the charts high.
That last box I placed in front of my face was moved. I looked out and saw the slacks of a lady. She was holding the box between us. It looked like she was reading the back of it because staring at me was Count Chocola. I held my breath and remained motionless. I don’t know when she sensed me, but when she did, she dropped the Count and screamed so damn loud I felt like bursting from my hideout and sprinting for the exit. But my body would not move.
I got a good scolding in the manager’s office, but before he was finished, someone came in and alerted him of more boys creating mischief.
He pointed at me and said, “Don’t you move!”
He disappeared, and so did I.
Cautiously, I walked out of the office, looked around, turned the corner, and strolled right out the front doors. Once I was in the parking lot, I sprinted around the far corner of the building into an open field, heading for the woods. I kicked into overdrive when my friends flew around the opposite corner of the building and into the field. Three men were in hot pursuit. We made a “V” toward each other and the creek.
We ran right up to the edge of the creek and jumped. We knew we couldn’t clear it, and that wasn’t what we had in mind. We splat into the far bank, righted ourselves, and splashed down the middle of the creek in the direction of the American Legion. The men weren’t far behind. They drew closer quickly, running along the upper edge of the creek, peering down when their view wasn’t obstructed.
We stopped when they stopped.
Everyone took notice of the gunfire.
One of the men made a motion with his finger for us to come his way, thinking we were at a dead end, so to speak.
My friends and I looked at each other, smiled, and then bolted toward the gunfire …and to “safety.”
Later, we took to our playground again, this time emulating the veterans at the American Legion, BB guns in hand.
We had been in position for 30 minutes, firing BBs into a hornet nest.
It wasn’t just any hornets’ nest – it was the mother of all hornets’ nests! Our BBs seemed to have no effect. We shifted our strategy to the base, where it hung in the tree, but we were just too far. Granted, it was a safe position when calculating how far the hornets were seen buzzing around the nest. However, we needed to get closer since our target went from a huge gray mass to the base, where it clung to the tree branch.
Some of us dressed in green camouflage, others in white tee shirts, blue jeans, and ball caps. We low-crawled through the waist-high, light brown brush of the open field and found a new position much closer.
It was close enough to put the slingshot into action with more accuracy.
“Wow! Nice shot!” was the consensus as the hole was visible and the flurry of hornets thickened.
Twenty minutes later, several holes torn into the nest, we realized this could take all day to bring it down. We needed a bolder plan.
“Danny, run up closer and throw this at it.”
“Screw you!” was the reply.
“C’mon, man,” the peer pressure poured on until Danny, the youngest of our group, went home.
Down a man, we re-examined the pecking order.
“Don’t look at me; you go,” Joey said to Kevin.
“Heck no,” said Kevin.
“Wimps!” I yelled as I sprinted in an arch pattern at the nest with a chunk of shale and whipped it like skipping a rock. It missed.
“Crap, I think I got stung,” I said when my adrenaline level came back down as I returned to our position.
Like a dam giving way, the throbbing-stinging pain spread across my left hand. I tucked it into my gut, bending over.
“Who’s the wimp now,” said Eric.
Joey and Kevin laughed.
Meanwhile, I spotted what looked to be a section of a telephone pole on my loop back. We low crawled to it. Weird as it was; indeed, a small cut section of a telephone pole lay in the brush. It was the perfect size to get two of us on each side and have room to spare. Plus, it was light enough to …
“Ahh, that’ll be awesome!”
“Did you fall and crack your head or something,” they replied.
But when I really wanted to be persuasive, I could usually bring my friends around to do the most stupid of stunts.
So there we were, rushing at a mega hornets’ nest with what can only be described as a battering ram. We hit it solid, launching it straight into the ground, where all hell broke loose.
We scattered, running for our lives, running for our homes – more to the point, our moms – screaming bloody murder the entire way.
At first, I was okay, running through the field. I laughed heartily, seeing Joey fall, get up and cry his eyes out; he was getting stung so badly. Just when I thought I might have escaped unscathed, it felt like I was sprayed by tiny, potent bullets from a machine gun. From my fingers waving frantically in the air, across my outstretched arms to my head, neck, and shoulders, even down my back, butt, and legs, I went from thinking this prank was hysterical to being hysterical.
I stumbled through my back gate and fell to my knees, head cocked back, arms wide in the air like a scene from Platoon, except I was crying like there was no tomorrow, as my mom ran to me.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
The World’s Largest Bobblehead is on a hill behind the Buckeye Express Diner at 810 State Route 97 in W. Bellville, Ohio. Watch closely; the head will bobble when the wind blows. The restored 35-foot-tall statue is named Chef Jacques. He spent half a century headless, toppled, and neglected after he first served at a location in nearby Mansfield. He has a close cousin, Handless Jacques, in Marblehead, Ohio. What’s with the severing of body parts for these cousins’ Jacques? 😉 Visit https://www.ohiotraveler.com/ohio-roadside-attractions/ for more fun.
Ariel-Foundation Park is a fascinating 250-acre park in Mount Vernon, Ohio, that blends industrial ruins with reflecting ponds and landscaped terraces. It makes for a wondrous walk through an eclectic scene of beauty and art mixed with a working town’s history and its ruins dating back to the industrial revolution.
This was formerly the site of the Pittsburg Plate Glass (PPG) manufacturing plant. The complex was one of the largest of its kind in the world. Now, it’s a wonder of Ohio, and it’s free to roam daily from April to November.
The Ruins include the 1900 Coxey Building, an adjoining clay storage building, the 1945 carpenter shop, the 1951 smokestack, an event center, three stair/elevator towers, and the clock house. The PPG ruins spread across a vast grassland of rolling hills so visitors may appreciate the large-scale glassworks operation of Yesteryear. Its preservation and enhancements together pay homage to the town’s industrial legacy.
These ruins are an Americana complex of preserved and modified structures. Among them are the vestiges of the late 19th century Coxey Building pylons. A plaque, plenty describes the sites, and claims that historians report that the structural steel that sat atop the brick pylons was salvaged from the 1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago. That repurposed steel found re-use once again over 125 years later. This time, it was used to create sculptures within Ariel-Foundation Park.
There are stunning landforms that surround visitors at Ariel-Foundation Park. They are reminiscent of the ancient burial mound-building traditions of the Adena and Hopewell cultures, who once populated the ancient Central Ohio landscape. That said, the purpose of these terraced mounds is to create sweeping vistas that invite visitors to enjoy an assent to their summits.
Another plaque on-site explains that the contemporary inspiration for The Terraces in the park comes from the work of American landscape architect Charles Jencks. His works are located principally in the British Isles and are monumental in scale, measuring 1,200 feet wide by 100 feet tall with miles of walkways. Ridge trusses salvaged in 1893 from the World’s Columbian Exhibition and in 2013 from the Coxey Building stand guard in a canyon formed by the terraces. Climb to the summit of the park’s highest terrace to experience a dramatic view of the reflecting pools, ruins, terraces, and sculptures crafted of steel salvaged from the historic PPG Glassworks.
No doubt, the most interesting and captivating feature of the park is its surviving 280 feet high chimney. It served PPG from 1951 to the time of the plant’s shuttering in 1976. It was constructed of reinforced concrete by the slip form method. To preserve it as part of The Ruins, it was transformed into an observation tower. The tower is free to climb its 224 steps to the observation deck at 140 feet high. But the tower stands 280 feet high. It’s all open grate, so every step is like climbing the sky. At the top, the view is breathtaking…in more ways than one. This historic chimney is the highest structure in Knox County, Ohio.
Meander every nook and cranny of the park’s ruins and beyond. There are so many angles of view that create “wow” after “wow.” After venturing through the labyrinth of ruins and climbing the vantage points at each end for vast views, cut through the tree line and find hiking trails, lakes, and even a little island to wander, paddle, and picnic. The park also offers pavilions for groups and plenty of grassy areas for Frisbee tossing and kite flying.
Learn more about this fascinating newer Ohio park at https://www.arielfoundationpark.org/.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Ah, the early trips! Those first couple of times, I could feel freedom and adventure leaving home without Mom and Dad.
On my first trip, I was sandbox-age. My buddy Eric joined me. It would be a sign of the times ahead of us as we explored the boundaries of independence and our knack for mischief.
It was an early summer morning, and we wanted cookies, but my mom said, “No.”
I knew of another friend, Kyle, down the street, and his mom always had a full cookie jar in her kitchen. So, Eric and I were off to get our fix even though I knew Kyle was at his dad’s for the weekend.
I guess you could say it was our first foodie outing.
The house was locked, and nobody was awake, so we did the natural thing … and slid through the doggy door. We were little tykes, so we staggered the kitchen counter drawers to use as climbing steps.
I was on the counter, hand in the cookie jar, when Ms. E. appeared as a silhouette down the hall leading to the kitchen, “Rocky, is that you?”
My middle name is Rocco. I was named after a saint.
Ms. E. rubbed her eyes in utter disbelief as if she were still dreaming.
The next thing she saw was two tiny butts simultaneously squeezing through that doggy door.
Minutes later, my mom stepped outside to see us in my sandbox and asked, dumbfounded, “Were you in Ms. E’s house just now?”
Tasting chocolate chip on the corner of my mouth, I licked it and said, “No.”
There would be some time I had to chore off before I would get a taste of freedom again.
Three houses down, that was the length of my leash – on a bicycle. Coincidentally, my turnaround spot was in front of Ms. E’s house.
I was a beginner and loved the freedom my new wheels gave me. Our street didn’t have sidewalks, at least not down by my house. Still, it was safe. Sort of. I guess.
The third house was approaching. I was on the edge of the road traveling opposite traffic, just like I was not supposed to do. A car came behind me as I turned into the middle of the road. I was startled when the driver beeped at me. Not a hello beep but an angry one.
Back home, I came to a stop against the side steps. This was the only way I could end a bike ride without crashing. We had a long blacktop driveway. Mom was outside, and I was about to go in for a glass of water when a police car pulled all the way up to the house. This was an incredible sight for me. The officer spoke with my mom, and I didn’t quite understand what it was all about. Finally, he approached me. Mom just stood off to the side.
Mesmerized by the uniform, holster, and all, I didn’t pay one bit of attention to a word he said. But I caught the gist. It was a lecture about bicycling safety. I was intimidated, to say the least. In my mind, when you do something wrong, and the police come, there’s but one conclusion – jail!
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I squeaked out.
The officer paused, looked at my mom, and she said to be quick.
I was quick, all right. I sprinted to my bedroom, grabbed underwear, a shirt, and my favorite stuffed animal (a monkey holding a banana), and then found a towel in the bathroom to wrap it all up. I only had cartoons and kids’ shows as a guide, so in lieu of a stick to tie it to, I improvised and used a yardstick. I slipped out another door and headed for the woods.
My mom saw me.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
When I stopped and turned, the yardstick snapped, and my sack flung to the ground.
At this sight, my mom and the officer seemed to burst out something but quickly contained it.
Now I really did have to use the bathroom.
Instead, I had to listen to the rest of the safety lecture and then got the bonus lecture on running away. It all seemed so threatening to me.
As the black and white pulled out of the driveway, I remember being very surprised that I wasn’t in cuffs in the backseat.
After my bust, I felt on the lam, always looking over my shoulder.
Okay, one more for the foodie crowd.
I looked up from my chair, which was attached to my desk, and wondered if I had heard my teacher correctly.
Yep! She said it again – “…brownies!”
I put my pencil down from doodling on the desktop and refocused on the classroom.
“…So if you want to stay after school tomorrow for brownies, you’ll need a note from your parents,” she concluded at the bell.
When I got home, I promptly remembered to relay the information to my mom. She didn’t bat an eye, wrote a quick note, and tucked it inside my folder for tomorrow.
At the end of the next day, my mouth was watering. I gazed at the clock three times, and all three times, the long minute hand didn’t budge. One minute to go, and it seemed to take an hour.
Then, finally, brownie time!
“If you’re staying after for brownies, line up here,” my teacher directed.
Bam! I was second in line, eagerly waiting to satisfy my sweet tooth. My focus slowly turned foggy as background noise penetrated my one-track mind. It was laughter.
“Rocky wants to join the Brownies, Rocky wants to join the Brownies …” was the chant gaining volume around me.
I looked around. I was the only boy in line. My teacher looked at me with an expression of …unease.
“Rocky, boys can’t join the Brownies. Brownies are Girl Scouts.”
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
One-minute video featuring
WATERFALLS AT HOCKING HILLS
Take a minute to view the Spring waterfalls in Hocking Hills Ohio State Parks featuring Old Man’s Cave Upper Falls, Old Man’s Cave Lower Falls, Cedar Falls, and Ash Cave Falls.
Welcome to Centerburg,
the geographical center of Ohio
In case you were wondering, the geographical center of Ohio is in the town…. wait for it …Centerburg!
And if you ever wondered what happened to the old Ohio slogan, “The Heart of it All,” it was relocated to this small town in Knox County. Well, technically, their slogan is “The Heart of Ohio.”
One day, I was going from point A to point B and happened to pass these signs. Of course, I had to pull over and take some pics to share this unexpected roadside discovery.
Sometimes vacations bring a moment of panic.
Our first family vacation that involved air travel had us flying the last leg on a small, bumpy flight with one row of single seats on one side of the plane. I sat in front of my six-year-old son, and behind him was another six-year-old. The seatbelt sign was on. We descended before our stomachs. That’s when I heard two remarkable imaginations echo through the hollow tube with a play-by-play for everyone to hear.
“We’re going to crash!” One boy yelled at the other.
“Ah, that was close.”
“Holy moly, there’s an alligator on the wing.”
The plane bucked in the air and then tilted to turn.
“The alligator is gone, but seaweed clogged the engine, and now it’s smoking.”
From the other side of the plane came an elderly voice, “Is there really smoke?”
I tried to squeeze my face between the back of my seat and the metal wall with desperate “SHHH” noises, but these two were on cloud nine all the way down.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Ohio’s Futuro House is also known as the UFO House, The Flying Saucer House, The Mating Flying Saucers House, and even the Martian House. This Ohio roadside gem is at the corner of Highway 123 and Chamberlain Road in Carlisle, Ohio. Click here to map your directions. This style of house is a prefabricated home design dating to the late 1960s by Finnish architect Matti Suuronen. Now, I’m curious, do the homeowners also prefer Dippin Dots – The Ice Cream of the Future? By the way, the “ice cream of the future” was first tasted back in 1988. Who knows, with a Flux Capacitor, this spacecraft turned home just might travel “Back to the Future” when space dot ice cream was out of this world. For more information about Futuro Houses, click here.
Ohio’s Sand Dunes at Oak Openings Preserve and Metroparks Toledo
Travelers to the Outer Banks or Great Sand Dunes National Park temper your expectations. Ohio’s sand dunes are not that. But it is unique because these dunes, much lesser as they may be, are tucked into prairie woodland trees and brush tangled with the leftovers of an ancient shoreline.
When pioneers traveled Northwest Ohio, they suffered many setbacks in the Black Swamp area. When they reached drier land, it seemed like an endless woodland of oak trees. But the oaks were spaced so wide apart that they earned the name Oak Openings. Horses and wagons navigated them with relative ease, at least until those wagon wheels sunk in the sand.
The Sand Dunes Trail may seem like a mirage at first. It’s at a slightly higher elevation, so when splotches of the light brown hue come in and out of view through the woods, one may wonder just how much, or little sand awaits. It’s not a grand view to take an all-in-one panoramic scan of the eyes. It’s a winding adventure revealing surprises around every foliage-filled corner, revealing a new vista dotted with ferns, flowers, and trees. Look before stepping, and it’s likely plenty of animal tracks will be stamped onto the surface, especially after a rain. Plenty of benches are perched along a ridge for more of a bird’s eye view of nature’s collage. The trailhead is picked up at the Mallard Lake pavilion and playground parking area next to the Buehner Center. It’s marked as the Red Trail.
Today, Oak Openings Preserve at Metroparks Toledo spans 5,000 acres and has 70 miles of hiking, biking, and bridle trails. The park’s ecosystem combines wetlands with oak savanna and dunes. The combination makes it a popular respite for migrating birds.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
In its heyday, Packard was a household name even though most households couldn’t afford one.
The American Packard Museum in Dayton, Ohio, features a 1934 Super Eight Sport Phaeton, made special for the New York Auto Show that year. Its color, Orello, was a unique blend of orange and yellow, although this color wasn’t in the Packard catalog. Its price tag was more than $3,000 when the average new automobile only cost $700. The cost was double the average annual salary and half that of a new house. The story behind this particular car on display is that wealthy parents gifted it to their sweet 16-year-old daughter. She hated the color.
The museum is in a former Packard dealership that opened in 1917. The Orello gift car is featured on the historic showroom floor.
Formerly Ohio’s Biggest Entertainment Couple
She stood just one inch shy of eight feet tall! He was two inches shorter. But he outweighed her 470 pounds to 413. They met on the circus circuit traveling Europe in the early 1870s. The “Giantess Girl from Nova Scotia” was Anna Haining Swan. The “Kentucky Giant” was Captain Martin Van Buren Bates. After they married, P.T. Barnum billed them as “The Tallest Married Couple on Earth.” Years later, the history books would recall them as “Barnum’s Famous Circus Giants.”
They later moved to Seville, Ohio, and built a house for giants. The doors were eight feet tall, and the ceilings were 14 feet high. Soon, their giant house and 130-acre farm ran up bills so they joined up with The W.W. Coles Circus to make ends meet.
They had a second child after their first died at birth. This one only lived 11 hours but his birth length of 30 inches long and weight of 23 ¾ pounds earned a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records. On a side note, when Anna was born, her mom only stood 5 feet 2 inches!
All three giants are buried in Seville at the Mound Hill Cemetery.
A replica of “The Tallest Married Couple on Earth” is in the living room at the Seville Historical Society surrounded by memorabilia from their famed days wowing onlookers at shows across the globe.
Click here to learn about other “Discoveries at the Museum”. “Discoveries at the Museum” highlights exhibits that museum visitors may brush past without knowing the profound story they tell. Here, we want to call attention to the museum pieces around Ohio that may be overlooked but shouldn’t. Although, the Giants of Seville can hardly be overlooked!
Around the spring equinox, Death Valley comes alive. But don’t expect to find huge crowds at the popular jaunts. Set out to explore the Racetrack Playa and its mysterious sailing stones, and paths may cross with one or two other souls, but that’s it.
Early spring heats up enough to feel that Death Valley vibe; otherwise, what’s the point? Granted, it’s far from its recorded record as the hottest place on the planet. It’s only about a two-hour drive from Las Vegas, so day-trippers come and go. The popular stops along a scenic byway will have their share of vehicles, yet it’s no problem finding a parking space, unlike most national parks and monuments. Traffic between the hot spots is sparse.
An ideal itinerary is spread over a three-night stay. That enables daylong treks to further out places few brave to go. The park covers 3.4 million acres and is the largest in the continental states. Warnings galore scare most people enough not to consider venturing far from Furnace Creek, the closest thing to civilization. Rough non-paved terrain frequently ruins plans when tires are slashed open by sharp-edged lava rocks. And if it’s a rental car, guess what? Most don’t even have a spare tire anymore, not even a donut! Death in Death Valley is something to consider! …Click here for the rest of the story and many more photos…
Northeast Ohio is the heart of the cheese wheel! Great cheese shops and houses with delicious varieties abound. But know this; nothing is more untrue than the saying, “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” Be sure to visit Guggisberg, Heini’s, Middlefield, Shisler’s, and others. Each one is a treat!
Formerly a Northeastern Ohioan, I’ve been playing house in Southwest Ohio for over 20 years now. Holidays and special occasions mean trekking up I-71 from Cincinnati to Cleveland to see the rest of the family. My daughter was in from Washington, D.C., and shared that her friends are amazed that she’s never been to Grandpa’s Cheesebarn. I had to admit that I had never been either. She laughed and said something to the effect of, “Some OhioTraveler you are.”
Well, I couldn’t let that stand. I saw the billboard and counted the miles. Exiting, my daughter perked up, noticing this was no ordinary pitstop. As we rolled into the parking lot, we rattled my son’s cocoon to tell him to get ready to get out. It was cold, snowy, and quite crowded. It was a novel place, quaint and grand at the same time, attracting locals and travelers alike.
We spent much longer browsing and shopping than we ever thought we would. Even the college-age son was impressed, and that doesn’t happen often. Our basket turned into baskets. In them went Amish country jams, local honey, and home-smoked meats.
Oh, my goodness, homemade chocolates and fudge, too!
It’s a good thing this was the holiday season, so we didn’t have to barter with a weight-weary conscience. Anything goes until the New Year!
My daughter started blurting out strange words like “Charcuterie” and pairing the cheese varieties we selected. My eyes glazed over until my attention turned to the history of this cheese establishment dating back to 1978.
It’s the tale of two grandpas. Grandpa Yarman came on the scene a little over a hundred years ago. After selling his prized portable RCA radio for his first wheel of Ohio Swiss cheese, he fell in love and opened his own cheese house in West Salem, Ohio. But Grandpa’s Cheesebarn in Ashland, Ohio, was started by Yarman’s daughter Vera and her husband, known as Grandpa Baum, along with their daughter and son-in-law. The generational handing of the baton created the family tradition of seeking the best cheese makers around. And today, two additional locations are in Norton and the Summit Mall in Fairlawn.
Grandpa’s Cheesebarn’s collection of 120 kinds of cheese features varieties produced by small local Amish farms and nearby Holmes County cheese makers. They also import from Scotland, Ireland, Finland, Holland, and elsewhere.
Just as we were ringing up the grocery list that we didn’t know we had, my daughter exclaimed, “Now let’s go over to the other building where there’s a café and CHOCOLATE.
Plan a trip to Grandpa’s Cheesebarn and Sweeties Chocolates at https://www.grandpascheesebarn.com/. And as the sign says, “Savor the Experience.” We did!
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Let me tell you about the historic Mt Adams Bar & Grill in photos, the back of the menu, a couple of selections from the menu, and a plaque on the brick wall outside.
The Back of the Menu
“The Mt Adams Bar & Grill backbar reputedly came out of a speakeasy owned by the infamous Cincinnati bootlegger, George Remus. Speakeasys were illegal bars operated during the Prohibition of alcohol decreed in 1919 by the 18th Amendment to our Constitution. Remus, a Chicago criminal attorney, moved to Cincinnati and bought a distillery to produce legally bonded whiskey for medicinal purposes by prescription only. Not surprisingly, a great of Remus’ whiskey found its way into speakeasys. At the height of his success, he employed 3,000 people and $20,000,000 in bribes to local police and officials. His success brought him $45,000,000 in profits and the unwelcome attention of federal agents. Scheduled for trial, he gave his diamond collection to his wife. For unknown reasons, she promptly filed for divorce, but in a diabolical twist, just two hours before the trial was scheduled to begin, Remus tracked her down in Eden Park and killed her. He pled guilty due to insanity, spent three months in a state mental hospital, afterwhich he was found sane and released.
Prohibition was repealed in 1933 with the passage of the 21st Amendment and the Bar & Grill in it’s present location was the first drinking establishment in Ohio to obtain a liquor license.”
A Plaque on the Brick Wall Outside
“When Prohibition ended, Mt. Adams Bar served the second drink in Cincinnati at 8:30 a.m. on Wednesday, December 6, 1933 to the Mayor of the Queen City, Russell Wilson.”
A Couple of Selections from the Menu
OMG, try this appetizer: Fried Jalapeno Ravioli. It’s to die for!
“It’s a ravioli filled with chopped jalapeno peppers and ricotta cheese. Fried to a golden brown and served with a side of marinara sauce for dipping.”
And for a sandwich, try the Southwestern Chicken. “It’s fresh chicken breast marinated in their special sauce and grilled to perfection. Topped with sour cream, green taco sauce, pepper jack cheese, tomato, lettuce, mayonnaise, and served on a grilled buttercrust bread.”
A trip here will also whet your appetite for culture and history. Mt. Adams is a legendary Cincinnati neighborhood built on a steep hillside. Much of it was once part of the Nicholas Longworth Vineyard, which developed the Catawba grape from which America’s first champagne was produced. Also rooted in Mt. Adams’ story are the world-renown Rookwood Pottery and the first public observatory in the western hemisphere—Cincinnati Observatory.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Forgive me, but I must start by sharing a song I couldn’t stop singing to my wife’s embarrassment as we hiked, searching for spherical geological wonders. It goes like this…
“I believe in sphericals
Where you from,
You sexy thing.”
*miracles
As in the song, You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate
The optimism from the funky ‘70s song must have put good mojo into the universe because we went from disappointment to a garden of perfectly rounded stones.
Anyway, these miracle/spherical rocks look like they could be dinosaur eggs. Some mistake them for cannonballs or meteorites. Others imagine stone-chiseled Death Stars crashing into Earth.
But these mystery rocks are over 300 million years in the making.
What caused these geologic irregularities to take on such spherical forms, often in perfect balls (“Where you from, you sexy thing”)?
Like an egg, the peculiar rocks had an organic nucleus. Nobody is certain, but the prevailing theory is this. When sea creatures (preceding dinosaurs, by the way) from the Devonian Period died, they had sunk to the seafloor. At the time, Ohio was covered by the sea. Minerals cemented to it layer after layer filling in the porous surface. The forming rock may have slowly rolled from time to time along the ocean floor, smoothing it as it grew, becoming what is now termed – concretion.
When Ohio shale beds erode, concretions protrude from cliffsides and creek beds. These phenomena are in scenic clusters at Highbanks Metro Park just north of Columbus. Imagine the layers of shale as pages of a book. Then imagine placing a rock in the middle of the book and compressing it. The pages warp around the rock. This is how the eroding shale beds look when a concretion surfaces again. The contrast is astounding. Such geological time capsules may or may not have a fossil at the center. Usually, anything organic at the core likely dissolved, leaving a void.
Explore Dripping Rock Trail from the nature center at 9466 Columbus Pike in Lewis Center, Ohio. The hike ascends high cliffs. Follow the woodpecker trail markers for a time. When the trail comes to a “T,” go left over a footbridge. A map there shows a dotted hiking trail to pick up on the other side of the bridge. The hiking trail isn’t marked, so trust where you may see evidence of a dirt trailhead that’ll snake back to hug the creek bed. Follow the creek until concretions make themselves known. If the water is high, many of them may remain hidden.
Enjoy the hunt for Ohio’s mystery stones. Or enjoy this song by Hot Chocolate.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun!
Anyone can remember the first time that they rode a bicycle independently, and with that memory, the freedom they felt running through their hair.
Black Americans felt the liberating feeling on a bike like no other in the late 1890s – the golden age of bicycles.
But nobody rode a bicycle like Marshall Taylor. Over 120 years later, Taylor is still recognized as the earliest and most extraordinary pioneering black athlete in American sports history.
Taylor was so fast on a bicycle that his nicknames included “The Ebony Wonder,” “Whirlwind,” and “Black Cyclone.” And a time when black Americans felt liberated riding them.
Bicycle advancements made racing them the thing to do.
Taylor rode like the wind, making him the target of bigoted competition. Flimsy excuses were used to ban him from races. But he never let racism or death threats stop him. His first professional race was at Madison Square Garden, where his motivation outpaced all others to the point that he lapped the entire field.
At the turn of the Twentieth Century, cycling was the most popular sport in the world. And with that, Taylor proceeded to become a world champion and the first black sports superstar in American history.
Several years later, today’s pinnacle of bicycle racing – the Tour de France – began in 1904.
Taylor’s story and others are preserved at The Bicycle Museum of America in New Bremen, Ohio.
The Mohicans Treehouse Resort and Wedding Venue features the popular Airstream Treehouse with a new Airstream cabin on the way. In addition, updates are being made to the world-famous Little Red Treehouse over the next year. A new project is the glamping tent treehouse. In addition, they offer ground cabins and country homes.
The Silver Bullet Treehouse is a treetop cabin made from a 31-ft classic 1978 Airstream trailer perched 25 feet off the ground. Equipped with black walnut flooring, some barn siding walls, indoor and outdoor showers, skylights, and a sauna, it mixes the old with the new by blending vintage barn materials with the aluminum details of this iconic aerodynamic trailer.
The Mohicans Treehouse Resort is owned and operated by husband & wife team Kevin and Laura Mooney. It is one of the nation’s largest treehouse villages offering stunning rustic-chic cabins and treehouses – three of which were designed by the guys from Animal Planet’s Treehouse Masters, including The Little Red Treehouse, which was featured on the show and was originally built by Nelson’s team as a brewery and tasting center before it was converted into a treehouse.
The Mohicans sits on 75 private acres of uninterrupted natural landscape overlooking the Mohican River Valley. Today, you will find seven finished treehouses and four ground-level cabins named after rivers from the local area (The Mohican, The Killbuck, The Walhonding, and The Kokosing). The three newest treehouses include El Castillo (a 2-level honeymoon suite), The View (floor-to-ceiling windows), and The Silver Bullet. The resort opened its doors in 2011 with a few cabins and Mooney’s long-term goal to become one of the nation’s most exclusive eco-resorts with up to 20 treehouses.
Sustainable design concepts are incorporated into the properties of The Mohicans Treehouse Resort, including passive solar design, radiant heat, on-demand hot water, reused and repurposed materials (100-year-old barn siding, hand-hewn barn beams, windows, doors, ladders, sliding barn doors, and cabinets).
Click here to plan your stay.
Photo by Ernest Warther Museum
When Ernest “Mooney” Warther, the world’s master carver, was just a boy, a stranger whittled him a pair of working wooden pliers by making just ten cuts in a single block of wood. Mooney was fascinated and he would take this concept to staggering extremes, which culminated in The Plier Tree. The Plier Tree consists of 511 pairs of pliers all cut from a single block of wood. It took Mooney just around 8 weeks to complete, making 31,000 flawless cuts. The work was so intense, he only could work on it two hours a day. Mooney took his Plier Tree to the Chicago World’s Fair in 1933 where he met Robert Ripley who just could not believe the tree would fold back up! The two men sat down and for two hours, closed each pair of pliers until Mr. Ripley saw that it came from one single block of wood (and it took them two more hours to open it back up—which is why it stays open permanently at the museum). The tree is a mathematical highlight and it represents (and has been featured in textbooks) exponential function.
Click here to plan a visit to
Ernest Warther Museum & Gardens.
Admission to the bridge to nowhere (Hillandale Bridge) in Euclid, Ohio, is Free.
The Bridge to Nowhere is open daily from dawn to dusk at 27598 Tremaine Drive at Hillandale Park in Euclid, Ohio.
It’s over 90 years old.
No expense was spared when constructing this bridge. It even has an elaborate “S” curve. No streets are leading to either side of the bridge, so no cars have ever crossed it that anyone knows of.
It was meant to be a part of a subdivision planned during the 1920s. But the completion of the project failed when the market crash of 1929 began the Great Depression.
Today, it sits in the middle of the woods as part of the trails in Hillandale Park. Use caution when crossing it. After nearly a century of decay, there are holes through its surface to the valley floor. There is also a guard rail missing.
It’s definitely a peculiar site.
It is a yummy, warm Wapakoneta holiday tradition that dates back about 130 years. Welcome to the Alpha Café, where the Tom and Jerry cocktail is served in a coffee mug. It’s warm, contains alcohol, and is also sweet, frothy, and has just the right touch of holiday spice. Click here to plan a visit to this historic establishment.
Ohio’s top Christmas Destinations and Holiday Attractions include but are not limited to:
America’s largest year-round indoor Christmas entertainment attraction at Castle Noel.
A Christmas Story House where you get to walk through a movie set location for the popular holiday classic “A Christmas Story,” which has been restored just as it was when it was filmed.
Holiday Parades like the legendary Lebanon Horse-drawn Carriage Parade.
Historic Homes like Stan Hywet Hall & Gardens, where you may walk through affluent Christmas past.
Magnificent Ohio light displays like the Journey Borealis at Pyramid Hill Sculpture Park.
Christmas Towns like Cambridge and Steubenville: Stroll old-world England in Dickens Victorian Village or among a hundred life-size nutcrackers in the Nutcracker Village.
An immersive Christmas experience at Kringle’s Inventionasium Experience.
Special Events like the Christmas Candlelighting in Historic Roscoe Village.
Christmas on stage with a variety of performing arts across the state.
And, of course, Christmas Trains from the Polar Express to Santa Junction.
That rounds out our TOP-1O ideas to enjoy Ohio’s Christmas and holiday season.
It is a yummy, warming, 129-year-old Wapakoneta tradition
you just won’t want to miss!
The secret recipe for the Tom and Jerry cocktails served at the Alpha Café during the holidays dates back to 1893. Alpha owner Tony Steinke, who purchased the business in 2004 from his grandfather, says every Tom and Jerry cocktail is made to order.
Generations of locals have made this special holiday treat an annual tradition. Taste one and you’ll know why. Served in a coffee mug, Tom & Jerrys are warm, contain alcohol and are also sweet, frothy and have just the right touch of holiday spice.
The Alpha Café has been operating in downtown Wapakoneta for nearly 130 years. The Alpha itself is a beloved institution; from the friendly service to the daily lunch specials, its longevity is steeped in rich tradition. Steinke’s family has owned the Alpha Café for more than 80 of its 130 years.
Architecturally it is a fascinating blend of antique and mid-century modern. The back bar was built in 1893 by Brunswick Balke Collender Company, Cincinnati, Ohio. It is 24-foot-long and is made of hand-carved white oak. The wall on the opposite side of the bar is lined with a matching 8-foot tall wainscoting with arched mirrors and the same intricate carvings. A column supporting a leaded glass partition sits at the end of the bar. It is simply stunning!
Past the bar area, you’ll find the lunch counter. Added in 1962, this diner-style counter with stationary round swivel stools sits in front of the grill and serving counter. You can watch as your food comes hot off the grill. The side wall of the lunch counter area is also lined with booths for that real ’60s diner feel.
Stop by the Alpha Café at 7 E. Auglaize Street, Wapakoneta, Ohio and enjoy the food, appreciate the history, admire the architecture and savor the tastiest 129-year-old tradition you’ll ever try. But don’t wait too long; this holiday treat will be gone before the new year arrives! You can check out more Grand Lake Region holiday traditions at www.SeeMore.org.
On the corner of Jackson Street and W. Washington Street in Sandusky, Ohio is the Merry-Go-Round Museum. Grab your popcorn, cotton candy, and wooden token — and take a ride through carousel history. The museum is housed in an old post office building which is, fittingly, rounded. Inside there are displays with hand-carved carousel horses and other animals. Visitors can ride the carousel. And at times, there are carvers at work on new carousel pieces.
The famous steps of Mt. Adams have a powerful lure for locals and internationally. What started as a Catholic tradition now includes the faithful the world over. Praying the steps for Easter is now a year-round practice for many. Take a step, put a new bead of the Rosary between your finger and thumb, and repeat. Or say your own set of prayers, adding a new one for each new step. Some just come to meditate on each step as they take an inward journey of their own. Eighty-five prayers later is the summit of the steep climb and the base of the Roman Catholic Immaculata Church, its steeple stretching skyward. Turn around, and a sprawling heavenly view reveals the skyline and majestic river of the “Queen City” – Cincinnati – in an eye-popping panoramic scene from high above.
A lady from Seattle was in town taking care of a friend’s dog while they traveled. She stopped to chat and offered insight into some of her favorite overlooks and other breathtaking views that Mt. Adams provides. She beamed a smile as if she were the city’s unofficial ambassador, even if for a short time.
Mt. Adams Steps at Holy Cross Immaculata Church have been a celebrated place of worship for more than 160 years. Since 1860, it has been the site of the annual Good Friday Pilgrimage, where the devout say prayers on each step to the summit. The “Church of the Steps” was built in 1859. The church and steps are near the corner of Pavilion Street and Guido Street. Click here to map your way to 30 Guido St. in Cincinnati’s Mt. Adams.
At the top of the steps, against the church, a plaque reveals the history: The “Church of the Steps” (Immaculata), built in 1859, was constructed from stone quarried from the slopes of Mt. Adams. Early it was known as the “Archbishop’s Church” in honor of Archbishop Purcell (1800 – 1883), who donated the land and supervised construction. It was conceived as a votive offering for his safety at sea during one of his many journeys to Europe. Since 1860, it has been the site of the annual Good Friday Pilgrimage, where the devout say prayers on each step to the summit. Originally the parish served the German-speaking Catholics of Mt. Adams. In 1970 it was consolidated with nearby Holy Cross Parish and is now known as Holy Cross Immaculata Church.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Hunters across the United States recognize Coshocton County, Ohio, as the place for game. It’s often ranked as the top county in Ohio for deer kills and is consistently ranked in the top three. But it’s really open season year-round for a variety of prey.
Hunting animals is what put man atop the food chain. It was essential to his evolution. Meat-eating supercharged human brain activity by giving it the calories needed to advance. Man’s brain uses far more energy than any other muscle in the body. Once this incredible energy source was introduced to his diet, man surged ahead of all living creatures on Earth. Today, man still has an incentive to hunt that dates back over two million years – food.
“In my family, we don’t kill it unless we are going to eat it,” said Scott Hosier, an avid hunter, and fisherman. …Click Here Read More…
Ohio’s coziest theatre sits at the corner of Broadway and Jackson Street in Grove City.
So, I let this gentleman go ahead of us at Adesso Coffee. In turn, he bought our coffee with a God bless. 
His name is Antjuan. His Christian rock band, We Are Messengers, performed later that night in Mason, Ohio.
Walk “The City of Sculpture” – Hamilton, Ohio!
There are over 40 sculptures, many in candid settings such as a couple reading under a tree, a father teaching his daughter to ride a bike, and a boy walking down a sidewalk playing the harmonica with his loyal dog in tow. Along the way, enjoy a few tasty cafes and novelty shops.
Click here for a map for the sculptures walking tour. There’s also a nearby sculpture park with 60 more sculptures nestled in nature and gardens at Pyramid Hill Sculpture Park.
Explore the wonderful shopping opportunities downtown and across the river in a revitalized boutique shopping district. Throughout, there are great eateries dotting the sidewalks. Some favorites are True West Coffee (great sandwiches) in a two-story coffee shop on the west side of the river at 313 Main Street. Look for the sculpture of a man and umbrella being rained on. Across the street is delicious ice cream at The Village Parlor. In the heart of downtown are two popular eateries. Alexander’s Market & Deli is where the locals flock for lunch. And just down the sidewalk, you can eat and shop for interesting items at High Street Café.
To learn a fascinating story, venture to the southeast quadrant of 3rd Street and Sycamore. For geo-explorers, coordinates are N: 39° 23.711 and W: 084° 33.699. There lies the Father of Hollow Earth Theory on a most peculiar gravesite.
Hamilton, the City of Sculptures (and murals, too), is a great place to walk, shop, and eat a day away.
The oldest lighthouse in continuous operation on the Great Lakes has been shining its light for 200 years to guide sailors past the rocky shores of Ohio’s Marblehead Peninsula.
Although folks may climb to the top of the Marblehead Lighthouse (and visit the museum) from Memorial Day to Labor Day, it is still a treat to see during the off-season. Marblehead Lighthouse State Park is a perfect setting for a lakeshore picnic, lounging in the grass, or walking the grounds. Come, read a book, skip some stones, and take wonderful photos at this Lake Erie gem.
The Marblehead Lighthouse is located at 110 Lighthouse Drive in Marblehead, Ohio (Map It). The grounds are open daily. Click here for more information.
A retired lady named Kathy traveled from Avon Lake, Ohio halfway across the country to save a dog from Texas that was scheduled to be destroyed. When she met up with an activist in a rest area somewhere in between, what she saw was the utmost neglect. The grown dog was depressed, riddled with fleas, mites, you name it. She called her veterinarian after hours en route home. This wasn’t the first such cross-country rescue for Kathy. So, the vet said she’ll meet her. It took two days to clean the pooch, and Kathy’s car, for the dog’s short trip to his forever home – Kathy’s place.
She named him, not knowing there was a Pink Floyd connection.
Side note: Kathy, before retirement, had her reservation messed up at a hotel in Cleveland during a real estate conference. The hotel had an entire floor off limits with a private key for the legendary band Pink Floyd. The band and hotel allowed Kathy to stay in a room on that floor. She would later say that she never met this man named Pink Floyd, but she enjoyed her morning chats with “a really nice fella named David.”
Kathy had many stories from her trailblazing past: kicked out of Catholic school for pranks in the 1950s, apron-to-punch card mother in the 1970s, a victim of sexism in the workplace, and then all-star realtor and manager. She was also a popular catechism teacher for high school students, but her teaching style to connect with them made the head nun have to talk to her from time to time. But through all her trailblazing, she was about to embark on the real thing.
When she drove her new dog to a nearby park in Avon Lake, she was excited to walk the dog trail someone had told her about. When the spry Kathy in her late 70s completed the walk, neither she nor her dog was satisfied, so they walked it again.
Kathy thought to herself, this will not do.
She later returned with her dog and yard tools. And went to work. She began clearing a new trail. But it ran into a middle-aged man’s secret binge drinking post. When Kathy completed her trail extension and marked it with a wooden homemade sign that read, “Trail by Kathy,” and an orange paw print to mark the way, a bit of a war broke out between her and the beer can litterer. He would leave his empties piled up at her marker and break the sign into pieces.
He didn’t know whom he was dealing with.
Kathy rebuilt what was destroyed and added to her quest to make more trails. More wood signs marked each trail: Pooch Path, Canine Crossing, Bow Wow Bend, Doggy Detour, etc. So, this cycle of trails by Kathy being met with piles of beer cans and some unmentionable protest by the beer guy went on for over a year. But in that time, Kathy would hear firsthand from many dog walkers that they loved whoever this “Kathy” was for making trails they loved to walk with their best friends. Within the next year, Kathy went from being anonymous to being known and loved as she was found adding a new loop trail here or a connection there.
One day, she looked across a ravine and thought, we need a bridge here. So, she had the lumber company deliver a load of precut wood to her measurements at the park’s parking lot. At 76 years old and with osteoporosis, she hauled 16-foot timbers to the ravine which is no short jaunt. And after watching a YouTube video, she built a bridge to start a new trail on the other side. She tumbled into the ravine once, knocking herself unconscious. Her dog guarded her until she opened her eyes. She called her grown kids in her fun, uplifting humor to say she almost died. After that, her daughter added a tracker to her phone as a precaution since she was so outgoing and often threw caution to the wind.
Side note: She started a senior biking club a couple of years earlier. At one time or another, each of the seven members ended up in the hospital after taking spills on the pavement.
One of her appreciative dog-walking friends – she has made dozens of them by now – said he was walking Kathy’s outer trail when something shocking caught his attention, and his head snapped up with jaw wide open. He blurted out, “She built a #$&%! BRIDGE!”
When Kathy took her dog Koda-Maria for a walk to the trailhead she had started on the other side of the bridge, she came upon the head city park engineer, a park worker, and another dog walker.
As she neared, she overheard the dog-walker exclaim, “Oh Kathy won’t like this. She won’t like this at all.”
When Kathy joined the conversation, the park people discovered that she was THE Kathy. But to Kathy’s surprise, they said they were very impressed with her sturdy well-constructed bridge. But they are going to bring a backhoe in to create a land bridge wide enough for a dog and person to walk side-by-side. And that they’d stack her wood if she wanted it.
Kathy said to the engineer, “This is a good thing because I was thinking in just a few years, I’ll be over 80 years old, and I may not be able to redo the bridge once it starts to decay.”
When Kathy came back another day to check on the progress, she noticed that her new trail work on the far side was blocked by a pile of dirt. She asked the engineer if it could be cleared. And when she returned the next day, she was amazed at the nice job they did to make her trailhead even nicer.
But what really caught the trailblazing Kathy off guard was an official street sign that marked the spot, “Kathy’s Bridge.”
This tribute melted her heart. She and the engineer and other park workers have become very friendly. She is charmed that they ask her opinion about things when they catch each other out on the trails.
Today, word of the “Trails by Kathy” is spreading. Delighted dog walkers have made it a local thing to post photos of them and their pooch at the sign, “Kathy’s Bridge.”
I wanted to publish this story much earlier but waited for other media to do it first. You see, Kathy is my beloved mom. And she lives to quietly make the world a better place, even if she creates a bit of “good trouble” along the way.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Sometimes you just need to stop the world and take a break.
Whether it’s for an amazing view to sort your thoughts, a quiet place to read a book, or the perfect park bench to chat with a friend, Alms Park in Cincinnati is that kind of soul-searching place.
Perch yourself high atop a hill at an overlook with a clear view of a large bend in the Ohio River, surrounded by foliage, and lose track of time. Watch airplanes from a nearby airport rise to the clouds. Take a stroll through the gorgeous architecture of the pavilion.
There are hiking trails (leashed dogs are permitted), paved walkways, benches, restrooms, vast natural areas, and a playground. Hours are dusk to dawn at 710 Tusculum Avenue in Cincinnati, Ohio.
At the corner of Ohio State Route 163 and Harbor Cove, look closely at the nearly 30-foot Maître d’ of Marblehead, formerly known as Handless Jacques, but he recently received new large hands. He was initially located in Marion, Ohio, where he used to stand in front of a sandwich shop. Stop by 6020 E Harbor Rd. in Marblehead, Ohio, to shake his new hands. His cousin, Chef Jacques, is in Bellville, Ohio, and is said to be the World’s Largest Bobblehead.
The Painted Ladies of Cincinnati are Ohio’s version of San Francisco’s Painted Ladies.
These Queen City historic Victorian homes are located at the corner of Tusculum Avenue and Sachem Avenue in Cincinnati’s oldest neighborhood of Columbia Tusculum, which dates to the 1700s.
For more “Cornering Ohio” sharing the best street corners in Ohio Tourism, click here.
Do you remember that first time you took notice of the white lines being drawn against the blue sky?
“Look mummy; there’s an aeroplane up in the sky.”
—Harry Waters (son of Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters), at the start of the song “Goodbye Blue Sky,” recorded for The Wall album (released in 1979), when he was two years old.
I was a kid on a car hood with my grandfather parked under the inbound flights at Cleveland Hopkins Airport when I first took note of the ‘metal birds.’ Although their wings eclipsed the sky, they were so low that it was the overpowering sound that stuck with me.
My grandpa told me stories about when his father took him to see The National Air Races, which were held in Cleveland from 1929 to 1949. He saw Aviators Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart fly there.
Humaned flight is ingrained in Ohio schoolchildren, considering the state’s long list of history-changing pioneers of the Heavens above. And it’s not just names like Armstrong, Glenn, and the Wrights, but Eddie Rickenbacker, Zachariah Lansdowne, Jerrie Mock, Jean Hixson, Judy Resnik, and Sunita Williams.
Imagine my excitement on a field trip to the airport to board a flying machine. It was the most luxurious plane I had ever seen. There were tables with lounge chairs and so much space to walk about. I couldn’t wait until the day I flew in such a fantasy.
But it would forever remain a pipedream.
Soon after that, I boarded a plane bound for Disney World with my parents and sister. I remember thinking, this doesn’t seem right. I craned my neck past the slow stepping torsos of the undead to see down the single-file aisle hoping for the lavish opening to come into view. Instead, we wedged into our bus seats fighting for the window.
“Take some gum,” Dad said, handing each of us a piece.
It was his trick to help swallow and “pop your ears” when the cabin pressure became too much during take-off.
“I’ll be right back,” Mom said as she disappeared to an empty seat behind ours. It was the dividing line between the smoking and non-smoking sections of the plane. But the smoke did not honor it.
When it came time for me to fly as a newly minted adult, I was joined by a bunch of northeast Ohio Army recruits at the Cleveland airport headed for Fort Jackson, South Carolina. In those days, anyone could come to the gate with you to see you board—the setting for so many saved relationships in romantic movies. Our gate was packed with crying mothers and shirtless teenage boys. The only security was a quick walk through a metal detector. I made my mom promise not to embarrass me by crying. She kept it … in vocals, at least.
On the flip side, I had a chance to come home on leave before jetting to Europe to finish my enlistment there. Our standard issue duffle bags didn’t seem big enough for what I was packing. I bought a super-sized duffle bag at the post exchange (PX). At 5’6”, I looked like a caricature hoisting that like-sized thing on one shoulder. That’s when I learned about size limits for luggage at the airport. I had no choice but to leave a good portion of my belongings in a trash can.
On the flight, I saw an old friend. It was quite a reunion. We managed to sit next to each other and order drinks like we wanted to fly forever and talk about old times (which were just a couple of years in the rear view mirror). The drinking age was younger back then. When we deplaned, we were holding each other up drunk. Our slack-jawed moms were at the end of the ramp to greet us. It was still the old days when you could hug someone coming straight off the plane.
When I departed West Germany a few years later (and just shy of the fall of the Iron Curtain), I was on edge. Weeks before take-off, our base was alerted to a terrorist threat to bomb an American flight out of Frankfort within the next month. I signed the cross after taking my seat on The Fourth of July! It was probably halfway across the Atlantic before I relaxed my sphincter.
After college, and after planning a national sales conference, I got in a Chicago cab, exhausted. There were several of us sharing it, so I sat next to the cabbie.
“Have a mint; they’re ‘curiously strong,” he winked at his clever reference to the tagline for Altoids.
My mom should have been in the back of my head saying don’t take candy from strangers, but it sounded like it would be refreshing. So, I snuck an extra when I dug into the tin between us. I’ll never know if I was slap-happy-to-the-max or if this dude had laced mints, but my co-workers were convinced of the latter. I boarded that plane as such a chatty Kathy, I was told—between laughter—to cool it, or they will throw me off the plane. Fortunately, we were in the sky when the flight attendant tried out her singing voice over the microphone to her captive audience (captive as in trapped, not captivating, to be clear). The Altoids finally wore off when the seatbelt sign came on before being tossed around like we were tied to a mechanical bull. All the clasped hands in prayer must have saved us.
Like father like son, but his poison was sugar. It was our first big family vacation to … wait for it … Disney World. Our last leg of the flight was on a puddle hopper with a column of single seats. Behind me was my rambunctious boy and behind him was his new friend, and behind him was that boy’s father.
“Oh my god, we’re gonna crash!”
“Pull up—pull up!”
“Whew, that was close.”
“Ahhh, look, an alligator is on the wing!”
It didn’t matter how much the other father or I shooshed at them, locked in our seats, squeezing our faces between seat and window. These two kids were having the time of their lives.
In a post-Nine-Eleven world, airports changed. My wife and I knew to get to the airport early. But now, living in Cincinnati, the Cincy Airport was a good trek into Kentucky. Go figure. This meant crossing a bridge dubbed the second worst bottleneck in the country. So, we left super early to beat the morning rush hour. When we arrived, it seemed like a comedy sketch. None of the gate checks were open. No human being was there. Indeed, we were the only souls. Us and the old man on a riding carpet sweeper. He went in mesmerizing circles as if he were riding a Zamboni. I believe he slowed time itself.
We watched the luggage turnstile circle endlessly when we arrived at our destination. Our bags were nowhere in sight. Many bags turned to none, and none turned to many again but from a different flight. We had nothing except boarding passes for a weeklong cruise. I waved my credit card. We better get to a store for some clothes and luggage quickly! But my wife asked for direction, and we were pointed to a door and small room on the far wall nearly out of sight. Our suitcases were on the wall outside of it in a well-trafficked corridor for anyone to snatch.
Soon after this trip, we were on another when I became aware of the swell change exiting an airport. A sea of Uber or Lyft drivers pulled up and away with riders in a frantic efficiency. Three cabbies waited patiently at the end of the line before cussing something, getting in their empty company cars, and speeding off to join the 21st Century.
Like father like daughter. Our college girl was headed to Chicago to see a roommate she had at The Ohio State University. It was her first time flying solo. Silly me thought we could walk her through everything to teach the ropes right up to the boarding gate.
“No ticket, no entry!”
“But…”
It wasn’t happening. So, I sounded like I was calling a play in a hurry-up offense with time about to expire, explaining to my daughter what to do from there on out.
“Sir, keep it moving.”
“Ya-ya!”
And off she went.
A news crew grabbed us and asked about our experience on what they claimed was the busiest flying day ever because of the way the Fourth of July fell with just a day between it and the weekend, allowing many to take a four-day trip. Well, it was only half of the story. Our girl’s return flight was canceled, and she was stuck in the Chicago airport. She reticketed for the morning. I told her by phone I was willing to drive there, but it would be several hours, or she could find some chairs or floor to sleep on.
Our spring break flight from a Death Valley trip was for the birds in a mostly post-mask but germaphobe world! It started okay even though our departure was set further and further back. It didn’t matter, six of one or a half dozen of another, because we had a very long layover, so it just made it that much shorter. We grabbed food and chairs and nibbled our way through the hours, waiting. I chuckled at some wall art, appreciating the sly humor. Two headshots were framed next to each other. One was Marilyn Monroe and the other Jacqueline Kennedy.
Before boarding the first leg of the flight, I had to go for a walk because my stomach was not agreeing with my airport food. It was announced that the plane’s carry-on luggage capacity had been exceeded, so they tagged luggage to be checked upon boarding. My wife and I couldn’t sit next to each other to boot. And to add insult to injury, I had a middle seat between a younger and older lady. We were in the air when pressure began to build …within.
At first, I thought I might be alright. Then, the pressure looked for alternative escapes. I wondered if the ladies touching my elbows could hear the noise of essentially farting inward rather than outward; we were so close. The pressure upped its game. I knew I was in trouble. I imagined what a sneak release might be like. I knew it would be anything but stealth. The older lady in the aisle seat was asleep. I nervously looked around. It was go-time.
“I’m so sorry, but I need to get up.”
I hurried to the plane’s rear and hung out for a while. Then I returned to my seat. About three nerve-racking minutes later, I had no choice but to roust my aisle lady again. This trip to the back saved me. When I returned to my seat, both seatmates went from strangers to chatting companions. I wondered what they knew. I wondered what was said between them in my absence. In any case, they seemed friendly. I was relieved.
Now for the rest of the story …or connecting flight.
I was reunited with my wife. She won the window seat. I was directly across from a rather unhealthy-looking woman. She even had a hospital bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Once we were in the air, it began. A cavernous cough from deep within whooped with no discretion. And it kept whooping …and whooping …and whooping. I figured whatever she had; we’re all getting. Thirty minutes later—no exaggeration—she stopped to eat and drink. Then, it kicked in again for another 30 minutes without a minute to catch her breath. I thought for sure I would be on my death bed within the week.
My mind drifted to that old pipedream. If only this airplane had the space to walk about like the luxurious plane, I boarded for that childhood field trip.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
The Portsmouth, Ohio Flood Wall Murals Project is one of the largest in the world stretching about 20 feet high and 2,000 feet long between Front Street and the Ohio River. Renowned mural painter Robert Dafford. His works, including the Portsmouth murals, create a 3-D illusion. The painting of the floodwalls lasted a decade, reaching completion in 2002. It has ever since been a great Ohio tourist attraction. The murals are a walk thru the Portsmouth area’s history from the time of Native Americans living on the banks of The Ohio River to the modern era. The floodwalls were erected after the Ohio River invaded the town in 1937, wreaking havoc. The gorgeous murals were painted soon after to replace what was a beautiful river view from the Historic Boneyfiddle District. The murals number more than 50! It’s a great walking tour or drive-by. Work up an appetite for the delicious eateries a stone’s throw away. Click here for more area attractions.
Commander Zachariah Lansdowne was a cornerstone in Ohio’s reputation as first in flight. But his name is perhaps not remembered as much as Armstrong, Glenn, and the Wright Brothers.
Unfortunately, this national hero was featured on the cover of Time Magazine in September 1925 just weeks after a fiery crash in Ava, Ohio killed him and 13 other crewmen aboard the zeppelin airship USS Shenandoah on September 3, 1925. It was 12 years before the Hindenburg disaster.
The Shenandoah was the first large airship built in the U.S. It was the first to be inflated with helium instead of explosive hydrogen. And it was the first rigid airship to serve as a commissioned vessel in the U.S. Navy. It launched on August 20, 1923. It was fabricated at the Naval Aircraft Factory in Philadelphia, PA, and assembled in Lakehurst, NJ. The Shenandoah measured 680 feet long and 93 feet high.
Zachary Lansdowne was a Greenville, Ohio native. Under his command, that fateful last flight of the Shenandoah was met with a severe thunderstorm sending it violently to the ground near Ava, Ohio. There’s a memorial monument there today complete with a miniature replica of the airship. Zachary Lansdowne was laid to rest at Arlington Cemetery in Virginia.
There are several sites in Greenville, Ohio that memorialize Lansdowne and the Shenandoah. A display telling their story is at the Garst Museum. A mural is on a brick wall facing Annie Oakley Park at the end of S. Broadway Ave. The commander’s birthplace home is still in town at 338 E. 3rd St. It’s a standout in the neighborhood and has several signs and plaques on the house and in the yard that read The Lansdowne House. And at the Greenville Episcopal Church, the Lansdowne family pew is marked with a plaque.
So is the short story of Ohio’s forgotten cornerstone of its illustrious history in flight. But in the words of that Time Magazine cover story, “Hereafter the name of Lansdowne will be the rhythm for a proud measure in the epic of the skies.”
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Intermission
Chasing …Pavement
Short stories of unexpected happenings
The evening was ripe with life and laughter strolling the pavements of an outdoor marketplace. Evening diners with spirits and appetizers chattered. Beyond their reach, a twenty-dollar bill appeared. A college kid with his girl was stunned by the sight. He pointed for her attention just before swooping down to seize the unexpected bounty. Just as he did so, the wind moved it just beyond his grasp. He quickly adjusted and went for it again. Damn wind. It skirted the cement top just out of reach again. By now every patio patron and passerby has taken intermission to their lives course to watch this peculiarity unfolding. The young man, used to being a spectacle in a positive sense, has drawn unwanted attention. He went into athlete mode so as to not be defeated. Coming up empty-handed was no longer an option. This trophy would be his for all to see. And just as he attacked the bill his girl tugged at his shirt a bit too late as she caught on. The bill moved and the man moved with it. Both scampered the pavement to the howling laughter of, well, everyone but him. His girl giggled, too. The bill kept moving until it climbed into the lap of an old-timer reeling it in on an invisible string. The young man met eyes with the old man and realized he was had. They both shared in the laughter that infected the scene. The younger guy shook a naughty finger at the old guy. The old guy returned with a wink. And as the young couple walked off, the crowd applauded, and his girl kissed his cheek and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. Life was good.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Vintage Ohio Photo Circa 1984
Munching on some IKEA meatballs in their cafeteria (having nostalgic thoughts of the K-mart cafeteria growing up – lol), looking to help furnish one of the kids’ new places. Hey, these meatballs with lingonberries are pretty tasty.
Ohio has two IKEA stores (Columbus and Cincinnati areas). The Swedish home furnishing brand known for assemble-yourself affordability and comfort the world over put out its first catalog in 1951. The world’s first IKEA store opened in Sweden in 1958. A year later, self-assembly furniture was produced to reduce shipping costs by keeping the packaging more compact. In 1974, a supplier turned a plastic bucket into a chair (pictured), illustrating the concept of innovation at low cost.
Bring your walking shoes. There’s a lot of walking to browse this store. Maps are everywhere, so you don’t get (too) lost.
Plan your visit at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/ikea-in-ohio/
Here are 16 Ohio Memorial Weekend destinations that truly symbolize the holiday and our remembrance of those who died in active military service.
Mansfield Soldiers & Sailors Memorial
Ohio Veterans Museum & Hall of Fame
National Museum of the U.S. Air Force
National Veterans Memorial & Museum
These are just 16 Ohio Memorial Weekend places to go or things to do out of many others, with military collections at various historical museums, events, and sites. Visit www.OhioTraveler.com to see these sections of the website for more ideas of where to go on Memorial Day in Ohio or discover other places for long weekend getaways.
Volkswagen Bug Tower In Defiance, Ohio
is at the corner of Hwys 18 & 281
The VW Bug Tower is a fun little stop in Defiance, Ohio. Five colorfully painted vintage Volkswagen Beetles rise to the telephone wires. There’s a large parking lot at the corner to park and walk around the tower to check out the artwork and subtle touches. I gasped looking through my camera lens in the high wind and rain when I saw a man climbing out of the windshield of the fourth car up. My wife’s laugh said, “I told you about the mannequin when we first pulled in. See, you don’t listen to me.”
Some in the family escaped the Soviet invasion of Latvia. Decades years later, an opera singer smuggled a symbol to indicate that they made it to freedom back to those who didn’t. That symbol was a postcard of Serpent Mound in Peebles, Ohio. …Click here for the rest of the story…
CLICK HERE
for the rest of the story
Three giant trolls made from recycled materials now live among the natural habitats at Aullwood Audubon in Dayton, Ohio, in an exhibit called “The Troll That Hatched an Egg.”
Two of these towering pieces of art are placed subtly in the woodlands. They blend in so well; visitors may be stunned when they come into view. Out on the prairie is one you can see from across the open field at quite a distance. It, too, is a stunning sight. Together, these majestic creatures named Bo, Bodil, and Bibbi tell a story about birds, flight, and why preserving habitats is essential.
The giant trolls are the creation of internationally renowned artist Thomas Dambo. There are only nine other exhibitions of this kind in the country. But this one tells explicitly a story that combines the area’s environment and history of flight.
Dambo is from Copenhagen, Denmark, and is recognized around the globe as a master recycle artist. His giant trolls have been popping up around the world for the past decade. Aullwood’s trio of trolls was created from locally sourced materials. It’s why they blend so well with their surrounding ecosystem. Dead branches in the area made the troll’s nest.
People of all ages are enjoying the opportunity to get out and see such a wonderous imagination come to life among the natural jewel that is Aullwood Audubon. Plan a trip to see “The Troll That Hatched an Egg” at Aullwood.org.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun!
“The Sky is Now Her Limit” by E.A. Bushnell published in Sandusky Star-Herald August 23, 1920.
The top rung reads, “Presidency.”
Click the photo to enlarge and read each rung of the ladder.
Note: The placard under the piece errantly cites “Elmer Busnell” misspelling the last name of Elmer Andrews (E.A.) Bushnell.
Bushnell was a cartoonist who worked at newspapers in Ohio and New York. This piece was created upon the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment to represent the opportunities now open to enfranchised women. Source: Google Arts & Culture
Traveling around the country, we often run into “Pieces of Ohio,” so we decided to collect them and bring them home to OhioTraveler.com.
This piece of Ohio was found at the Seal Cove Auto Museum in Mount Desert Island, Maine, by Acadia National Park on what is called “The Quiet Side.” It was a traveling exhibition illustrating the struggle to win women’s right to vote.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
The old lodge looked like it was hanging on from the 1930s, or so it seemed. I walked a dim-lit hallway calling out to see if anyone was there. Tucked in a backroom was the office.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” said the live-in manager in such a way that I questioned if I’d hear the same statement in the morning …if I happened to be lucky enough to see it.
“Let me escort you to your room,” she said.
On the way out, she grabbed an old metal square floor fan. “This is your air conditioning.”
And by “out,” I mean out of the lodge and down a walkway to a cinder block with what looked to be patched bullet holes in the door. …click here for the rest of the story…
Paul Weaver, a local Amish man, spent 20 years honing his skill at three-dimensional wood carving. Each piece usually takes three months to complete, using only hand tools.
Most of the carvings are from a solid block of butternut wood, sometimes with leaves still growing out of it. No adhesives are used.
His collection is on display, daily, at the historic Lehman’s Hardware Store in Kidron, Ohio. Every fourth Saturday of the month, Paul Weaver is there to answer questions and explain his process. It’s free but donations are appreciated.
On the corner of Fourth Street and Main Street in Mansfield is old-fashioned fun in a modern setting. Here, the Richland Carrousel Park has merry activities year-round.
When it opened in 1991, it was the first new, hand-carved carrousel to be built and operated in the United States since the 1930s. Each of the 52 figures was carved by Carousel Works in Mansfield in the style of G.A. Dentzel, a famous carver of the 20th Century.
Take a ride for just a buck on any of the 52 hand-carved carrousel figures. Enjoy cotton candy, popcorn, slushes, and more. Look for special events around holidays throughout the year plus semi-annual Wine-d Down Wednesday Ladies Nights. Plan a birthday party or anniversary here for a very memorable experience.
The Richland Carrousel Park is located at 75 N. Main St. in Mansfield, Ohio (Map It). It is open daily from 11am – 5pm. For more information, call 419-522-4223 or visit https://www.richlandcarrousel.com/.
Sometimes a wrong turn can lead to fun discoveries. Thank you, GPS. Missing a turn, my GPS rerouted me down Barrhaven (Rd, St, Ave?) which loops to/from Main Street in Hayesville, Ohio in Ashland County. Off to the side of the backroad was an old VW Bug jutting up from the ground, half-buried. I guess it’s Ohio’s version of Cadillac Ranch off Route 66 in Texas. LOL.
When I first walked into this Toledo roadside diner 25 years ago, it felt like my kind of place. Back from my Army stay in Europe, now in college treating my girlfriend (soon to be wife) to a great bite I could afford, the road leads here. It was 1992. The waitress said it still looked the same as it did when it opened in 1948.
Recently, my wife and I traveled several hours to see one of our kids and our niece attending school in the area. Their school wasn’t in the immediate area, but it was close enough for a road trip to the dear ole diner still frying up memories after all these years.
When we drove around the place hoping to find a parking spot, I asked the ‘kids’, “Whattaya think?”
A deep voice in the backseat said, “As long as it has burgers, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
So it goes.
We snapped a photo to commemorate the old roadside diner with its nondescript faded yellow brick, glass block windows, and neon sign. It still felt right, even after romanticizing it in our minds from back in the day. And, ooh, that smell: a concoction in the air that wafted somewhere between fresh-hand-peeled potatoes and thoughts of grandma’s pie cooling on a windowsill.
It’s funny how a mere scent can trigger a memory. The most memorable thing about Schmucker’s Restaurant, bar none, is the pie! To quote an old saying, the pie “is to-die-for.”
[To-die-for is popular American hyperbole from the 20th Century and means that something is so amazing that it is worth dying for. For example: “Get the pie! The pie is to die for!” – Idiom Origins]
When we went inside, we crammed the doorway with another cluster of folks waiting for a table to be emptied and bused. I hoped it wasn’t the one within arm’s reach because then someone else was sure to be loitering in my space while I ate. So, ya, Schmucker’s Restaurant is …cozy.
But that’s the charm of it. That, and the fact nothing changes inside these walls unlike the ever-changing world outside. The owner’s name is still Schmucker, albeit the grandchild of the founders Harvey and Nola. Heck, even the chrome stools at the wrap-around lunch counter are originals. Once we nestled into our seats, yes, by the door as feared, we became a quaint world unto our own. All was well.
“What’s that ringing?” my niece asked. “It sounds like an old movie.”
In the back corner of the restaurant, a worn, wooden telephone booth has been there since day one. After we heard it several times, we tried to record it but couldn’t quite get it right. So, my niece called the restaurant. We heard and recorded the old-fashioned ringing telephone a couple of times over until our waiter reached inside it and answered, “Schmucker’s…”
My niece panicked and hung up. We later confessed our sin, thinking we’ll make up for it in the tip.
Our waiter was a young fellow with a bright smile. He was everything you’d expect from a family-diner straight out of Yesteryear. He was friendly, helpful, patient, and attentive. But more than that, he was a conversationalist. And that’s the thing about a diner like this. You learn about not just the place itself, but the community it serves.
“Hold that thought,” he said to us as he backed away to seat some newcomers. Several minutes later he returned to pick up the conversation almost in the mid-sentence he pardoned himself from.
“Whattaya have?”
My son ordered up the Wimpy Burger Platter. I asked if he knew who Wimpy was. Of course, he didn’t. I don’t even know if he knows Popeye (outside of the chicken chain).
I couldn’t resist. I blurted out the catchphrase from the early-era television cartoon, “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.”
Blank faces. Crickets. … “Is this a dad joke or something?”
[“A dad joke is a short joke, typically a pun, presented as a one-liner or a question and answer, but not a narrative. Generally inoffensive, dad jokes are stereotypically told with sincere humorous intent, or to intentionally provoke a negative reaction to its overly simplistic humor. Many dad jokes may be considered anti-jokes, deriving humor from an intentionally unfunny punchline.” – Wikipedia]
Perusing the menu, it was hard to make a decision between meals that had side notes like, “Just the way Mom makes it on Sundays.” Or, “Grandma Schmucker’s secret recipe since 1948.”
“Hot Roast Beef” seemed like such a staple comfort food for an old-time roadside diner experience. But then again “Fresh Perch” considering our proximity to a Great Lake was alluring, too. The menu had everything you may imagine for lunch, dinner, and even breakfast! I was usually the quick and decisive one to order but I seemed to be channeling my wife … “Uh, I’m sorry, can you come back to me?”
So, with a homestyle dinner, fresh garden salad, homemade soup of the day (Nola’s recipe), and an old-fashioned strawberry soda (they also had chocolate and cherry), I wondered if I’d be able to save room for pie.
Then I laughed and laughed and laughed.
I had to decide on one of Nola’s 54 pie recipes:
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Being Corny in Dublin, OhioField of Corn (with Osage Orange Trees) is the name of this curious roadside attraction in Dublin, Ohio’s Franz Park, at 4995 Rings Road.
There are 109 ears of corn made from concrete, each standing over 6 feet tall in this creative artwork; you may walk through year-round from dawn to dusk.
It’s a favorite stop for Ohio travelers passing anywhere near the Greater Columbus area. Stop for the awe, history, or pure novelty of it. Have a picnic, take some fun photos, and have a few laughs. A cell tour is available at 614-368-6999.
Click here for further details about this unique artwork, why it was built, and how it represents the agricultural history of the area.
Photo by Dominic Satullo
A “Piece of Ohio” was found at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York. This 1893 board game depicts the early use of a baseball player’s endorsement. Here, the Cleveland Spiders catcher Charles “Chief” Zimmer lends his persona to this unusual mechanical baseball parlor game.
“Chief” Zimmer, despite modern-day folklore, was not of Native American descent. He was nicknamed “Chief.” According to Wikipedia, the genesis for the nickname is as follows: “Since we were fleet of foot, we were called the Indians. As I was the head man of the Indians, somebody began to call me ‘Chief.’ It stuck,” said Charles Zimmer.
There are pieces of Ohio across the continent and beyond. Find them and bring them home to OhioTraveler.com. Take a pic and write a short description of what you found in a museum or on a plaque, etc., and how it connects back to Ohio along with who to credit for the photo. Make sure it is tourism-related.
Click to pick up more
PIECES OF OHIO
Play VideoThe world’s largest cuckoo clock as declared by the Guinness Book of World Records (1977 cover) is at the corner of Main and Broadway in Sugarcreek, Ohio – also known as “Little Switzerland of Ohio.” This giant cuckoo clock is operational from 9am – 9pm April through November. It measures 23 feet tall by 24 feet wide. On the half-hour, its cuckoo bird pops out, the band appears, and couples dance away to Swiss polka music. Click here to go to Ohio’s little Switzerland.
Travel back to the 1800s and meet Mr. & Mrs. Hafner at Ye Olde Trail Tavern in Yellow Springs, Ohio.
The Hafner is a mouth-watering combination of grilled corned beef, sauerkraut, and Swiss drizzled with thousand island on toasted pumpernickel rye or Udi’s gluten-free bun.
The Mrs. Hafner combines grilled turkey breast, sauerkraut, Swiss and Thousand Island dressing on Pumpernickel Rye or Udi’s gluten-free bun.
Either way, it’ll be a scrumptious choice set in the ambiance of a historic tavern.
Plan your foodie adventure at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/ye-olde-trail-tavern/ and meet the Hafners.
Make a pilgrimage to Do Good.
If anything, the journey to rural Ohio is worth it just to have a Miracle Mocha, Prodigal Burger, Trinity Grilled Cheese, or Little Fishers served in a Noah’s Ark with animal crackers.
Welcome to Do Good Restaurant in Osgood, Ohio. Blink and you might drive right through the tiny town without knowing it.
The servers are volunteers and tips go to a worthy cause. Ask your server whom you are helping today. Remember, “Brothers and sisters, while we are here let us do good.”
Plan your pilgrimage for a divine breakfast, lunch, or dinner by clicking here.
It had been 20 years since we had last visited Sunwatch Indian Village & Archaeological Park in Dayton.
The layout is wonderful in that upon the approach you cannot see the 800-year-old Village before you walk out of the back of the interpretive center. Then, from an elevated view, you begin to see into the ancient culture of the Fort Ancient people. Marvel at the recreated structural designs that reveal apparent astronomical alignments from a complex of strategically placed posts. Closely examine inside and outside the five lath and daub structures with grass thatch roofs, and portions of a stockade.
Although insightful eye-opening tours are provided, we ventured into the wide-open space on our own. Along the way, a wild turkey named Tina befriended my wife and walked alongside her. When the nesting (atop a grass roof) geese (the male) flew a warning overhead, Tina sought her adopted human mother to shelter her from the bully of the Village. LOL. When we circled the grounds we had to make an impromptu detour as the Canada Goose swooped from the rooftop to cut us off at the pass and chase us into adrenaline-filled laughter and retreat.
It was a wonderful visit, just as we had remembered. There are so many interesting learning opportunities at this national historic landmark. The 3-acre village site produced an abundance of artifacts, including turkey eggshell fragments (maybe Tina was visiting her ancestors too ;). The interpretive center features many of these well-preserved relics that had been recovered from the site.
If you go, say hi to Tina. She’s a friendly unofficial tour guide.
To plan a visit, click here.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
Summit of Mount Logan at Ohio’s Great Seal State Park
Casting a shadow on The Great Seal of Ohio as we stand atop Mount Logan near Chillicothe, Ohio is the culmination of a great winter-spring hike. With no leaves on the trees, the view is panoramic. It is a pretty steep ascent and descent on par with Appalachian hiking. Mount Logan is famously shown in the official seal of Ohio, The Great Seal of The State of Ohio, and is located at Great Seal State Park near Chillicothe (the first capital of Ohio). Plan your visit at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/great-seal-state-park/
Hargus Lake Trail
Hug a lake during a 4.4-mile autumn trek on the Hargus Lake Trail at A.W. Marion State Park near Circleville, Ohio. Hiking its woodland hills and taking in the gorgeous lakeside views are a great way to spend an afternoon, especially when the setting sun bounces off of the colorful leaves and mirrors them in the water below. It’s a loop trail that permits leashed dogs. Oh, and there’s an island in the middle perfect for a kayaker picnic. The grounds and parking are free. Hargus Lake provides 145 acres of water, boat launching ramps, and public docks. Rentals are available from the concession on the northwest side of the lake. Electric motors only are permitted. Click here to plan your visit.
Abracadabra (1992) by Alexander LibermanAbracadabra (1992) by Alexander Liberman is one of the largest works that Liberman ever constructed. It’s made of a mix of sheet and cylinder steel, painted a vibrant red. Liberman was primarily known for working with cylinders, but later in his career, he started to work with more sheet steel. Abracadabra is influenced by Liberman’s several trips to Greece in the mid-1960s to study the remnants of Greek and Roman architecture. In the case of Abracadabra, Liberman built this piece full scale, meaning there was no model or moquette. He would draw on steel sheets; the fabricator would cut them out and use cranes, sometimes multiple cranes, to put them in temporary positions as the piece was built.
Pyramid Hill Sculpture Park & Museum features over 80 outdoor sculptures on 300+ acres of land. Enjoy nature and art by walking, driving the park, or renting an art cart to explore! The park also has hiking trails, so one can immerse themselves in nature. Take a break from the outdoors and visit their Ancient Sculpture Museum featuring Greek, Roman, Etruscan, Syrian, and Egyptian antiquities dating to 1550 B.C. Plan your trip at https://www.pyramidhill.org/
Gulla Dog at Gulla’s Lunch
photo is courtesy of Belmont County Tourism
This “FoodtEase” serves up…THE “GULLA DOG” at Gulla’s Lunch in Bellaire, Ohio.
Gulla’s Lunch is home to the famous “Gulla Dog”. Paul Gulla is the fourth generation to serve up the sauce on Belmont Street. A tradition that started more than 4,000 miles away in Sicily. The recipe is Paul’s great-grandmother’s. His great-grandfather ended up in Bellaire, opening the first version of Gulla’s Lunch, just down the street from their current location. It was called the Columbia. In 1984 they moved two doors down to their current location, where the menu expanded and so did the clientele, as generations passed on the tradition that is grabbing lunch a Gulla’s. The fish, the chili, the vegetable soup, all of our soups are homemade. The staple lunch is a Gulla dog, fish and fries and gravy, Even though they sit on a small street in a small town, Gulla’s can go nationwide. If you bring in your own mason jar, they can jar you up some sauce to ship to someone as far away as Texas.
Over the years, we have recognized 50 of the top attractions or destinations in Ohio travel and tourism. In the coming years, we’ll continue our journey until we discover the TOP-100 attractions in Ohio. See 51-100 as they are added over time by clicking here.
Here are our top 50 out of 100 Standouts in Ohio Tourism in no particular order:
Dennison Railroad Depot Museum
National Museum of The U.S. Air Force
Jungle Jim’s International Market
For a guide to all Ohio travel and tourism destinations listed on OhioTraveler.com, CLICK HERE.
Eli’s BBQ in Cincinnati is located in a place that’s not well marked but everyone knows where to go for great-tasting barbeque and atmosphere. It’s in an old river neighborhood a stone’s skip from the Ohio River. When you walk into the weathered building, you first notice the worn wooden floor. On one wall there’s a collection of rock’s finest vinyl records. On another wall, there’s an old stereo system with a turntable spinning records from the collection.
You’ll walk to the counter in the back and order your food. Then, find a seat in the front dining room with the most peculiar art for sale, hanging on the walls. Or you may sit outside or in an adjacent tented eating area. They’ll bring the food to you when it’s ready. The pulled pork, ribs and creamy southern coleslaw are to die for! But there are plenty of other great options to feast on. If you enjoy Jalapeño, try the cheddar grits and cornbread.
Eli’s BBQ has been listed in national top-10 lists for best barbeque and is also available at some Cincinnati area Kroger stores. They also have a stand at the historic Findlay Market for take-out in downtown Cincinnati. Elis is open daily from 11am – 9pm. You’ll find it at (Map It) 3313 Riverside Drive in Cincinnati, Ohio. You may call 513-533-1957 or visit http://www.elisbarbeque.com/.
For more of Ohio’s unique eateries, vsit https://www.ohiotraveler.com/restaurants-eateries/. If you want to suggest a place for our taste buds to determine if it gets added to the list, email scoops@ohiotraveler.com.
By Rocco Satullo, your Tour Guide to Fun
“The Last Road Trip” is a
Farewell to Another Generation’s
Traditional Family Vacations
The all-American family vacation harkens images of the Griswold’s out on the open road trekking cross-country in a station wagon to the sound, Holiday Road. And it repeats with each generation. It’s a rite of passage that comes and goes in about a 12-year period from when the kids are old enough to remember something to old enough to fly the nest. But it goes by in the blink of an eye. Thousands of dollars are spent seeing places like Disney, Yellowstone, and countless other destinations and attractions. Littered along the way are tourist traps and roadside gimmicks to lure the weary family and break up dad’s power-drives to get somewhere special.
In the end, what does everyone remember? The moments between geological wonders and architectural gems. The unexpected.
After a dozen years of summer vacations, we decided to take one more before our daughter headed off to college. Some call this the senior trip. In all likelihood, it marks the end of an era. Never (most-likely) will just the four of us be packed in a car for two weeks, forced to get to know each other better. It wasn’t always rosy times, but even the meltdowns are remembered, fondly. Every trip, I’m good for one, earning the nickname – Travel Dad.
“Uh-oh, Travel Dad just got behind the wheel,” could be uttered from the backseat when I grumble out loud about a traffic situation.
Alas, it really is about the journey and not the destination. Here are some of the more memorable experiences our family had together over this blip in time. I’m sure our stories are your stories or at least they’ll get you talking about yours, too.
Our first real vacation had us flying on a small, bumpy flight with one row of single seats on one side of the plane. I sat in front of my six-year-old son and behind him was another six-year-old. The seatbelt sign was on. We descended before our stomachs. That’s when I heard two remarkable imaginations echo through the hollow tube with a play-by-play for everyone to hear. “We’re going to crash!” One boy yelled at the other. “Ah, that was close.” “Holy moly, there’s an alligator on the wing.” The plane bucked in the air and then tilted to turn. “The alligator is gone, but seaweed clogged the engine, and now it’s smoking.” I tried to squeeze my face in between the back of my seat and the metal wall with desperate “SHHH” noises, but these two were on cloud nine all the way down.
On a long driving day, we approached a small town I had read was one of the 100 you had to see before you died. The distance was deceiving, and it came in and out of sight as we rolled over hills and turns for about 10 minutes as we neared it. Coming closer, we “oohed and ahhed” looking for a place to pull off and snap some photos. In town, I had stopped and started at a few signs and lights before a flashing light caught my attention. When I found a place to pull over, it was revealed in short-order that this popping mad policeman was in silent, slow pursuit of us for …miles. After he spits his displeasure and ripe words at me he returned to his cruiser to write my ticket. That’s when my young daughter wondered out loud if I was going to prison. I unconfidently replied, no.
In a desolate part of the country, I was proud to have found a motel close to a remote national monument that Triple-A didn’t even know existed – and for a good reason. Our cinder block accommodations overlooked nothing for as far as the eyes could see. There was a cluster of puddied-over bullet holes head-high in the door. The “inn-keeper” fetched my son his bead (cot) from a shed and when she turned to leave, I asked for the room key. She said there was none. There was a pause between us before she turned away, laughed, threw her arms in the air and said, “Besides, where ya gonna go?”
There’s nothing like hiking to the top of a mini rock mountain searching for Petroglyphs when lighting strikes. What had been a careful ascent due to the multiple “Beware: Rattlesnakes” signs became a mad dash for the car. The winds and rain whipped up, but we managed to get to our four-wheel shelter before the brunt of it nailed us. Winds still churning albeit it not as powerfully, I rolled down my window trying to get a better look at an anomaly headed our way. “Roll up the window!” my wife screamed, but before I could, a wall of sand slammed into our faces and all over the car.
I withdrew some cash before stepping out of our hotel and into the early morning sun …and the chest of a homeless man. He asked for forty-nine cents or some odd number like that. I only had twenty dollar bills. When I said that I couldn’t help now but certainly would later, he yelled and threatened, “You won’t always be together,” waving his finger at my children in a threatening manner. Now I know he probably wasn’t playing with a full deck, but I couldn’t help myself. I stopped, turned around and said, “Did you just threaten my family?” He proceeded to shout at me and called me this and that for an entire block. He crossed a street, so we walked a bit more before we crossed. But first, I paused to see which way he was going to head on the other side. He turned and scanned my side of the street until he found me. Then he waved me over in sharp motions as if to say, “Bring it on!” I laughed to myself, and we walked away.
After police confiscated all of our water before entering a building (plus snacks, sunscreen, you name it), we walked for miles from one site to another on a record hot day all over a city. But if you ask anyone in our family, what was the best thing you ever ate on all of your trips, the answer is unanimous. Frozen lemonade from a food truck. We scrounged up just enough coin to splurge on one five-dollar frozen lemonade. The four of us lined the curb, each taking a spoonful of heaven and passed it down. We were that desperate and elated.
A cottage stay put us on what amounted to a cul-de-sac street in the woods with every cottage in the cluster having been rented out by college kids, partying like there’s no tomorrow. Every cottage except ours and one other, kitty-corner from us. Ours was remarkably soundproof so as long as we could sleep, I wasn’t complaining. But kitty-corner family had this to say, “In the middle of the night, my worst fear came true,” said kitty-corner dad. “Someone was banging on the back door yelling, ‘let me in.’ I yelled back, ‘You better get out of here, this isn’t your cottage, now go away.’ To which the drunk on the other side pleaded, ‘Come on dude, stop mess’n with my head and just let me in.’ This exchange repeated a few times before the stranger at the door fell silent.” The father of that family couldn’t open the door in the morning because the college kid had passed out against it.
While waiting at a street corner, a strange sight grabbed our attention. A lady was walking backward ever so casually at a pace somewhere between not too fast and not too slow. I quickly reminded the kids (and myself) not to snicker when she neared. We missed our “walk” sign and stood still, gawking, as her back-side passed us and now shown her front side. She kept walking backward, looking at us, us looking at her. She crossed a couple of streets as if she had eyes in the back of her head and finally turned a corner, all the while walking backward. When she finally tuned out of view, we looked at each other and said in unison, “Well, you don’t see that every day.”
The stories go on and on. There’s the time we were trapped on a back road trying to navigate through a herd of wild bison. There’s the coffee cart sermon from a crazed vendor talking about end times as he waited on a long line of snickering, but caffeine-addicted customers. The coffee was to die for by the way. Then there was the white-knuckle Cliffside drive up and down a mountain dirt road. Oh, and who will ever forget those black flies and cockroaches! Falling off a horse charging through the water was a good one. And there are the slap-happy moments where you laugh so damn hard you think you’re going to be asked to leave a restaurant. But the time together always leads to the most memorable times of all – conversation that tighten bonds in ways that only a family vacation can.
My favorite memory was from a generation ago when I was the kid. My mom was reading a plaque inside a museum aloud to my sister and me. We lost interest just like Dad and faded back. Filling the void came interested tourists hanging on my mom’s dramatic reading. Soon, we couldn’t see Mom because a whole horde of folks gathered around her. When she finished, she turned to see the sea of people gathered around her. Without missing a beat, she waved her arm and said, “Now if you follow me over here…”
And so it goes, another generation experiencing the all-American family tradition. Happy travels to you and yours.
By Rocco Satullo, your tour guide to fun!
Welcome to “Cornering Ohio” where we share the best street corners in Ohio tourism!
If you mention the intersection of Memphis Avenue and Tiedeman Road to most Clevelanders you will probably evoke a big “Huh?” Until, that is, you mention Memphis Kiddie Park. The iconic children’s amusement park has been located where Tiedeman dead ends in Memphis for the past seven decades. Selling its first ticket on May 28, 1952, Memphis Kiddie Park was one of a few kiddielands in the greater Cleveland area. Over time, and for various reasons, all of the others shuttered, except for Memphis Kiddie Park which is still going strong. And thanks to I-480 and a busy cloverleaf at Tiedeman, Memphis Kiddie Park has never been more accessible to all of Northeast Ohio.
Memphis Kiddie Park is truly one-of-a-kind. Its whole point is to appeal to small children without the noise or intimidation of teenagers and adults found at larger theme parks. With 11 mechanized rides from a traditional Merry-Go-Round to North America’s oldest steel track kiddie coaster, the Little Dipper, one may think of Memphis Kiddie Park as the “training wheels for Cedar Point”. Add to that a miniature golf for the whole family and a concession stand featuring the best Hot Dogs and Funnel Cakes in the County. And, because Memphis Kiddie Park caters to small children, access is easy and affordable, parking is free, there is no gate fee for anyone, and rides are just one ticket per ride for each rider. If it’s too hot for your child or there are unexpected rain showers (it is Cleveland after all), no problem. Tickets never expire so you can come back as often as you like without the steep penalty of a gate fee and parking.
Click here to join the fun.
Welcome to “Cornering Ohio” where we share the best street corners in Ohio tourism!
On the corner of N. Broadway and Wilson Drive in Greenville, Ohio is The National Annie Oakley Center at Garst Museum. It houses the largest display of Annie Oakley items in the world. Learn who Annie really was, a petite and fashionable lady, instead of the Hollywood image depicting her as a tomboy in the Wild West. This gem of a museum is tucked away in her hometown. The gift shop has plenty of Oakley memorabilia that may make for great stocking stuffers. Nearby are a statue and gravesite for Annie Oakley.
Click here to plan your trip to see Annie.
“An Amish Fruitcake Like No Other”
Yoder’s Bakery & Furniture
(Formerly Keim Family Market)
I’ve heard this about Yoder’s (formerly Keim’s) holiday fruitcakes for the past 13 years I’ve worked with them. The recipe goes back to the 1970s when Roy Keim sold them and his wife’s homemade pies roadside from a horse and buggy. Now, people around the country order them. We think word spread from truckers over the years. This year, I decided to have one mailed to me so I could finally try it. In a word: YUM! There are plenty of fruitcake jokes during the holiday season, but at Yoder’s, fruitcake is no laughing matter. Like many fruitcake lovers across the country, you may order one from this quaint Ohio Amish shop to be shipped to you by calling them at 937-386-9995.
The Miniature Circus Features 2,620 hand-carved pieces
Tucked away in the second floor of the Massillon Museum (MassMu), visitors of all ages are delighted to find a 100-square-foot miniature circus containing 2,620 hand-carved components.
The late Dr. Robert Immel relived his fond memories of going to the circus as a child by carving tiny circus figures beginning when he returned from World War II. By the time he donated his imaginative circus lot to MassMu in 1995, it used 36 elephants, 186 horses, 102 assorted animals, 91 wagons, 7 tents, and 2207 people to depict vignettes of the circus parade, an elephant act, a sideshow barker, and three-ring acts in the big top.
Can you find a vet treating a sick zebra, workers repairing a fire-damaged wagon, a crew preparing food for the menagerie, a team sledgehammering a tent stake, a boy running for the bathroom with balloons flying behind him, and a man who’s going to lose his job for drinking behind one of the tents?
Surrounding the diorama is a rotating exhibit of circus artifacts from Dr. Immel’s collection. Guests may see sequined trapeze artists’ costumes, animal trainers’ overalls, P.T. Barnum’s gold tipped cane, Lavinia and Tom Thumb’s wedding album, clown shoes, colorful posters, or sideshow photographs.
When you visit the Immel Circus, don’t forget to also see the Paul Brown Museum; contemporary art in Studio M, the local history, fine and decorative arts, and photography galleries; and rotating exhibits in the main and lower level galleries. Remember your visit with a local history book or artist-made memento from the unique shop.
The Massillon Museum is located at a 121 Lincoln Way East (Ohio Route 172) in the heart of downtown Massillon. Admission and adjacent street parking are free. For more information, call 330-833-4961 or visit massillonmuseum.org.
Gervasi Vineyard, an upscale Tuscan-inspired winery, has three distinct restaurants featuring exceptional cuisine. The stunning 55-acre estate featuring the state-of-the-art winery and distillery also has a coffee house and craft cocktail lounge in addition to offering tours, tastings, pairings, culinary classes, and events. And you may spend the night in “Tuscany” in a luxury suite.
The Bistro, housed in a historic barn, features rustic upscale Italian cuisine with homemade ingredients featuring antipasti, salads, brick-fired artisan pizzas, steak, chicken and seafood entrees, and delectable desserts. Offering a full bar including specialty cocktails, craft beers, and award-winning Gervasi Wines. (Reservations recommended.)
The Crush House is a contemporary wine bar and eatery in a more casual setting. Enjoy lunch and dinner in an open-air “loft” style restaurant and winery featuring Venetian-style cuisine with appetizers, sandwiches, salads, wraps, pasta bowls, entrees, and a full bar including specialty cocktails, craft beers, Gervasi wines, featuring weekday Happy Hour 2 – 6 pm and Theme Nights.
New to Gervasi Village is The Still House, a coffee house by day, featuring a wide variety of coffee creations. In the evening, the venue transforms into a swanky cocktail lounge as one of the coolest spots in town. The Still House offers specialty craft cocktails created by mixologists, an extensive bourbons list, craft beers, and Gervasi award-winning wines. Cigar aficionados can enjoy a high-end indoor/outdoor lounge. Live music featuring local artists is offered every evening.
Spend the night in “Tuscany” in a luxury suite. The Villas, and the new boutique hotel, The Casa, offer a total of 48 luxurious suites, offering high-end amenities and are custom designed to feel like you have escaped to Tuscany.
Links to Gervasi’s restaurants for menus, dining, and take out options:
Photos courtesy of Gervasi Vineyard
Wouldn’t it be really cool to walk into a painting and be a part of it? You could check things out three-dimensionally to see what the other side looks like.
How about a famous painting? Let’s say, for example, Georges Seurat’s 1887 A Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grand Jatte, which is a depiction of people gathering on a Sunday afternoon at the Seine River in Paris. The original is shown at the Art Institute of Chicago. But the version in downtown Columbus, Ohio offers a totally different experience.
Enjoy a walk and picnic at the Columbus Topiary Garden & Park at Old Deaf School Park – https://www.ohiotraveler.com/topiary-garden/
VASE IN PLACE or as some refer to as VASEHENGE in Zanesville, Ohio is a circle of 18 giant painted clay vases to celebrate the town’s heritage as the “Clay City.” Zanesville was once known as the “Clay Capital of the United States” because it was home to some of the most renowned pottery companies on the planet. The display of larger than life vases stand at the foot of another rare sight, a Y-bridge. You’ll find this interesting roadside attraction at Pine Street and Highway 40. Afterward, head downtown to shop the vibrant art scene. Plan your visit at https://www.visitzanesville.com/Explore/Destinations/305/Vase-In-Place/.
This SATURdate was where spirits soar
The first thing you want to do when you go hiking is to make sure your source to find the trailhead is current.
We looked at an Ohio hiking book we’ve had for years to find our way to a very enjoyable hike with sweeping clifftop views that we had taken years ago. Following the written directions in the book, we turned onto an unpaved road and drove the distance, looping back, and starting over. We somehow missed seeing the trailhead. In another attempt, we missed it again and turned around on the narrow gravel road along a hillside. When we stopped where we figured the trailhead should be, it wasn’t there. I got out and walked the road looking for clues. I found a weathered board deep in the weeds of an overgrown trailhead that read, “New entrance to Buzzardroost Rock is 7/10 mile east,” or something to that effect.
Down the road (Ohio 125 about 5 miles east of West Union, Ohio) there were two gravel parking lots for the Buzzardroost Rock trail. One was on the south side of the roadway and the other was down a gravel drive north of the roadway. The trailhead is at the information kiosk. Conveniently, there’s also a port-o-pot.
Buzzardroost Rock is at the Edge of Appalachia Nature Preserve. It’s about a 4.4 mile out and back hike with a small loop trail near the end. This hike is about a mile longer than the old route. Either direction you may choose on the loop trail near the end is about the same distance to the observation point.
We’ve learned to bring two pairs of shoes and a plastic bag to put the muddy ones when done. It really came in handy on this hike. Trails under cover of the canopy of mature woodlands often stay muddy long after it rains. This was no exception. However, there was a wood plank networks placed over some of the soupiest parts of the trail. Still, there were other sections that had to be navigated with care as was evident by the number of feet and body skid marks where others slid or fell. The trek is uphill and ranked in our guide book as moderate to difficult. In the heat, we were pleased that we brought plenty of water.
When we got to the small loop trail we chose to leave the woods trail to explore the open prairie. With the sun shining, the blue skies with powder-white clouds popped against the lush green landscape. A couple of old farmstead buildings whispered to us from the overgrowth piquing our curiosity to explore what was behind the weathered boards still managing to stay erect. The wild prairie flowers are just a fragment of the nearly 500 species of plants that have been discovered in the Preserve, which is one of the most biodiverse natural places in the area.
After the trail returned to the woodland ascent, the sky could be seen through the timber on both sides. The peninsula narrowed and led us out to the top of the Peebles dolomite rock outcrop overlooking Ohio Brush Creek and the valley floor some 900 feet below and as far as the eyes could see.
A metal railing framed two long wooden benches and a sign telling about the scene. This is where we unpacked our bagged lunches and enjoyed a much-earned bite to eat while chatting with a few strangers. They shared a tale or two about their hiking and climbing adventures in Ohio and elsewhere in North America citing Red River Gorge in Kentucky, the White Mountains in New Hampshire, and Yosemite in California.
A trip to Buzzardroost Rock [75 miles East of Cincinnati near the Ohio River] must also include a couple of stops to see what is known by locals as Wheat Ridge Amish Country. You’ll feel like you entered another period of time when you come out of the other side of the 1855 Harshaville Covered Bridge. Drive with caution around the bends and rolling hills because Amish buggies, bicycles, and scooters share the country roads. Tucked in this quieter Amish country are two jewels: Keim Family Market, and Miller’s Furniture, Bakery & Bulk Food Stores. Both are Amish-owned and operated and have been for generations. Make sure you have room in your vehicle to take home their legendary baked goods, gorgeous furniture, and plenty of fixin’s from the bulk food stores. And if you happen to stop here before the hike, their deli sandwiches taste best atop of the Rock.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
For more SATURdate ideas to spend with friends, family, or solo, visit https://www.ohiotraveler.com/saturdate/.
Click to enlarge photos
[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdwtnk_qGCY[/embedyt]
The friendly skies will be OPEN
for
OPEN COCKPIT BI-PLANE RIDES
Beginning in June
Call the WACO Air Museum in Troy, Ohio
at 937-335-9226 or go to www.wacoairmuseum.org
to plan your unforgettable experience for two.
“Sunny” is ready to come out and play!
Watch a famous sculptor at work just about any time. And walk around his spacious two-story studio to see the world’s largest bronze sculpture exhibition by a living sculptor. Alan Cottrill is happy to take a break and tell you stories, beginning with that first time he sunk his hands into clay, and about the process behind creating mega pieces that are shipped and placed around the world. Click here to plan your visit to the Alan Cottrill Sculpture Studio.
Add This to Your List Of Things to See When Places Open Again. Until Then, Enjoy This Fascinating Story.
The Newark Holy Stones, on display at the Johnson-Humrickhouse Museum (JHM) in Coshocton, were discovered in Licking County between 1860 and 1867 by surveyor David Wyrick. One of them was found at the Newark Earthworks and the other one was found at the Jacksontown Stone Mound. The collection is composed of the Keystone, the Decalogue Stone, a two-piece box made to house the Decalogue Stone, and a bowl. Both the Keystone and Decalogue Stone are inscribed in Hebrew. The Decalogue Stone also bears an image of Moses. This controversial find infers that these ancient Indians were the descendants of the “Lost Tribes of Israel,” the ten of which were said to have been deported after Israel’s conquest by the Neo-Assyrian Empire around 722 BCE.
This and most of the museum’s collection were once the private collections of John and David Johnson, who grew up in Coshocton, Ohio. It’s not exactly known how the Johnson brothers came to possess the Newark Holy Stones, but it’s believed that they purchased them directly from David Wyrick.
There was correspondence between the Johnson brothers and different scientists, among others, trying to authenticate the Holy Stones. After a time, the stones were just stored away. In a letter, they asked someone at Tiffany’s Department Store in New York City what they should do with them. The correspondence back from Tiffany’s offered to display them in their storefront. Instead, the brothers held onto them until they showed up in Coshocton by railcar with the rest of the Original Collection which originally comprised the JHM Museum collection.
JHM had the Newark Holy Stones in a drawer, not even on display until a book was authored by Robert W. Alrutz, a professor at Denison University. As a result of this book, belief in the authenticity of the Newark Holy Stones grew.
Countering Alrutz’s book, Bradley T. Lepper and his colleague Jeff Gill researched the stones and published an extensive article The Newark Holy Stones, published in the May/June 2000 edition of TIMELINE, a publication of the Ohio Historical Society. However, despite their effort, the controversial documentary The Lost Civilizations of North America also fueled the validity of the Newark Holy Stones. It largely ignored the archaeological community, and in particular, the Lepper/Gill findings.
“We think these forgeries were created to support a particular idea of the past that was in conflict with the then-popular scientific theory that claimed that the mounds disproved the bible and that it supported slavery, in a convoluted sort of way,” explained Lepper. “So these holy stones, even though they’re fake, have a very fascinating story to tell about this early period in the history of archaeology.”
At the time that the Holy Stones were discovered, the issue of slavery engulfed the nation. One year later, the Civil War had begun. Lepper said the Holy Stones should be on display because of this connection, even though he believes that the stones are forgeries.
“We get lots of people interested in the Newark Holy Stones,” JHM director Jennifer Bush. “I tell people my opinion based on scientific analysis, but some don’t want to hear that. They want to hear that they are real.”
Throughout the museum, there are many attention-grabbers that open a new world of curiosity. Be sure to add http://www.jhmuseum.org/ to your list of places to explore later this year.
By Frank Rocco Satullo, The OhioTraveler, Your Tour Guide to Fun
This is an excerpt from a much larger story, “Collecting A Legacy …And Controversy: Small Town Museum Hails Worldly Artifacts” which was sponsored by Visit Coshocton
Photo courtesy of Findlay Market
Welcome to Findlay Market, Ohio’s oldest public market and Cincinnati’s only surviving municipal market house.
It’s home to over 50 full-time merchants and over 50 seasonal farmers, artisans, produce vendors and more! Nestled in the heart of Cincinnati’s Over-the-Rhine neighborhood, this historic structure has been (and remains) home to a plethora of small, multi-generational businesses and is a place where a diverse array of local food entrepreneurs gather to provide the freshest and highest quality food and artisan products.
The Market has remained an integral part of the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood (once home to over 40,000 German-American, African-American and Appalachian residents). Findlay Market was the one-stop-shop for folks to get their weekly essentials—farm-fresh produce, high-quality meats, freshly-baked bread, hand-cut flowers, etc. Today, Findlay Market prides itself on staying true to its roots by supporting small business and providing Over-the-Rhine residents and Cincinnati locals with eclectic food and food-related products they will not find anywhere else in the city.
In addition to providing the best food in town, Findlay Market is a communal space, conducting over a dozen events throughout the year. Findlay Market is also home to the Findlay Market Opening Day Parade, in which businesses, organizations and school groups gather at the Market and parade through the city to celebrate and cheer on the Cincinnati Reds!
In the warmer months, Findlay Market hosts local artisans, farmers, and prepared food vendors in its Outdoor Market. During this season, shoppers can enjoy a local craft beer (or two) in the Findlay Market Biergarten (pictured) with their family and friends!
Click here to plan your visit to Findlay Market.
Photo courtesy of Findlay Market
Did you know that the Earth is hollow, according to a theory laid to rest in Hamilton, Ohio?
Symmes Monument in Hamilton, Ohio commemorates the “Father of Hollow Earth Theory,” John Cleves Symmes Jr. This is the only remnant left of a cemetery-turned park after other remains were transferred to another burial ground. Symmes believed an opening near the poles (later dubbed “Symmes Hole”) led to a hollow and inhabitable interior world. The Theory of Concentric Spheres and Solar Voids was pitched to the U.S. Congress in hopes that funding for an expedition would be funded. After a lecture tour promoting his theory, Symmes died May 29, 1829, and was laid to rest here, just south of downtown Hamilton, Ohio at the southeast quadrant of 3rd Street and Sycamore. For geo-explorers, coordinates are N: 39° 23.711 and W: 084° 33.699.
Blue Rock Station just outside of Philo, Ohio has 16 artsy buildings made mostly of reused materials, earthen plaster and rammed-earth tire foundations.
This is a working farm with barns made of straw-bales, reclaimed weathered barn wood and art on the walls.
The art pictured here appears on the walls of two of their tiny sleeping cabins. Interns and students help to design and create the art.
The photos demonstrate how two of the art pieces come together to make interesting artistic buildings. Each building has a name.
The farm is open occasionally during warmer months and registration is required to take a tour.
For more information or to listen to the Blue Rock Station podcast visit www.bluerockstation.com.
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Ohio has creative pieces of art in museums, along roadways, in parks, you name it. Help us share pieces that make you pause and say, “Wow, THAT’s creative!”
You may submit a photo of your favorite creative piece of art in Ohio with a description under 300 words for publishing and posting consideration. Be sure to include a byline with photo credit. Send your submission to scoops@ohiotraveler.com.
See More of Ohio “Wow” at
https://www.ohiotraveler.com/wow-thats-creative/
“Lost and Found” by American sculptor Alison Saar is on permanent display at the Dayton Art Institute in Dayton, Ohio.
This sculpture is the focal point no matter which direction you enter the vast room where it is displayed. It commands attention and curiosity. It is simply made of wood, tin, and of course, wire. But it projects a profound message that although we may not notice one another at times when everything is stripped away, we mirror each other and are very connected no matter our differences by gender, race, or age.
Alison Saar is a mixed medium sculptor based in Los Angeles, California. She focuses on race and gender and uses found and traditional material. Her work often conveys cultural and social messages, experiences, and identity, especially in areas to express the injustices endured by minorities and women.
Dayton Art Institute is one of the nation’s finest mid-sized art museums. It features an encyclopedic collection of nearly 30,000 objects spanning 5,000 years of art history. Highlights include the museum’s outstanding Asian collection, 17th-century Baroque paintings, 18th, and 19th-century American art, and contemporary art collection. In addition to its diverse collection, the museum features world-class special exhibitions, a wide variety of educational programs, and an interactive, family-oriented Experiencenter gallery.
Click here for more information about The Dayton Art Institute.
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Ohio has creative pieces of art in museums, along roadways, in parks, you name it. Help us share pieces that make you pause and say, “Wow, THAT’s creative!”
You may submit a photo of your favorite creative piece of art in Ohio with a description under 300 words for publishing and posting consideration. Be sure to include a byline with photo credit. Send your submission to scoops@ohiotraveler.com.
See More of Ohio “Wow” at
https://www.ohiotraveler.com/wow-thats-creative/
At the corner of E. Maple St. and Cavalier Dr. in North Canton, Ohio, learn how a vacuum cleaner company helped win WWII.
A vibrant part of Walsh University, the story of the Hoover legacy unfolds in the Victorian Italianate-style farmhouse at the Hoover Historical Center. It’s a unique walk down memory lane in the boyhood home of William “Boss” Hoover, founder of The Hoover Company. Amid Victorian elegance, visitors view vintage vacuums, advertisements, ladies’ fashions, home décor, and war memorabilia. Interactives are available throughout the tour. Herb gardens enhance the grounds.
Plan your visit at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/hoover-historical-museum/
The Spot Burger in Sidney, Ohio will definitely hit the spot. It’s no wonder people take road trips to Sidney for one of the tastiest burgers in a setting that is authentic and nostalgic.
The Spot Restaurant started as a chuckwagon more than 100 years ago. Its cheeseburgers have left ear-to-ear grins on happy customer faces generation after generation. Spot Miller wheeled his chuckwagon into town in 1907 but Sidney officials restricted selling meals from the mobile eatery so Spot Miller kicked the wheels off and became a permanent fixture in town for generations to come, cooking up memories for all.
New owners bought the place from Spot Miller and had a grand vision of popping up in many spots across Ohio and beyond. The chain, Spot to Eat, opened in Athens, Urbana, Lima, Piqua, and Bellefontaine. Eventually, they all disappeared and only one SPOT exists today, the original!
Along the way, a more permanent building was built. Fire in the early 1940’s resulted in the exterior design seen today, including the neon sign hanging over the front door with the Spot trademark. Inside, the last renovation was 1976.
Click here to plan your visit to The Spot!
On the corner of Second Street and Locust Street in Ripley, Ohio is the three-story brick building that was built in the 1880s for the Ohio Valley Piano Forte Company. Now, it houses the “Olde Piano Factory Shoppes” and Brown County Magazine and is a part antique mall, and part museum.
Click here for more information about the Olde Piano Factory Shoppes.
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“Got Nothing Against The Big Town,”
but we’re cornering small-town Ohio.
Help us share the best corners in Ohio. You may submit a photo of your favorite corner in Ohio with a description under 300 words for publishing and posting consideration. Be sure to include a byline with photo credit. Send your submission to
“scoops at ohiotraveler.com”.
See More of Ohio “Cornered” at
https://www.ohiotraveler.com/cornering-ohio/
On the corner of Main Street and Third Street in Historic Zoar Village is Number One House (Kings Place), built in 1835, which is where you may visit the Zoar Museum.
The museum tells the story of a group of about 200 German Separatists seeking escape from religious persecution in their homeland and settled this community in 1817.
Learn more about the town, its history, and offerings today ranging from shopping, dining, gardens, and history all-around at https://www.ohiotraveler.com/zoar-village/.
* * *
“Got Nothing Against The Big Town,”
but we’re cornering small-town Ohio.
Help us share the best corners in Ohio. You may submit a photo of your favorite corner in Ohio with a description under 300 words for publishing and posting consideration. Be sure to include a byline with photo credit. Send your submission to
“scoops at ohiotraveler.com”.
See More of Ohio “Cornered” at
https://www.ohiotraveler.com/cornering-ohio/
