June 2024

A couple weeks before this trip, I asked four friends in which quadrant of the state they thought Noble County resided. Their answers were all incorrect. Apparently, querying a Central Ohioan on this subject is akin to asking an average American, “What was the highlight of Millard Fillmore’s presidency?” (If you’re playing at home, the answer is: “He was instrumental in passing the Compromise of 1850.” We would have also accepted: “There was none.”)

Unless you live in the area – which is southeast Ohio, by the way – you’re probably not very familiar with Noble County. It’s one of the state’s smallest counties in area and is its fourth least-populous with just over 14,000 residents. However, it holds the distinction of being the last county formed in Ohio. With its creation in 1851, the state attained its current total of 88 counties. To bring it to life, the state legislature took portions of Guernsey, Morgan, Monroe, and Washington Counties and stitched them together into a political division that would have made Dr. Frankenstein proud. The result is a wonky jigsaw puzzle piece with thirty corners. Henry Howe, author of Historical Collections of Ohio, called Noble County “the most zig-zag county in the state.”

We entered the county from the north along Ohio Route 821. It was a sunny, pleasant morning; a good one for a country drive…until we came upon a slow-moving farm vehicle whose top speed was 15 mph. The two-lane road had just then become more winding, so we couldn’t safely pass. I reminded myself that county trips are for slowing down and taking in the scenery, so I took a deep breath and resigned myself to a very…slow…drive….

But then a short straightaway opened up where the double yellow lines became dashes. I stomped on the gas and we made our move! Whew!

About five miles into the county, we pulled off the road in the small village of Ava, the first of many female place names we would encounter. (If you’d like to make this narrative more fun, take a drink every time a “woman” is mentioned.) On the east side of the road sits a stone and bronze monument erected by the federal government to memorialize the tragic crash of the USS Shenandoah nearly a century ago.

The Shenandoah was the first of four rigid airships, also known as zeppelins, constructed by the United States Navy. It was 680 feet long and over 93 feet tall. It was the first rigid airship to use helium rather than hydrogen. Early in the morning of September 3, 1925 – a day short of the two-year anniversary of its maiden flight – the lighter-than-air craft was caught in a violent updraft while passing through a thunderstorm. The turbulence tore the ship apart. Large pieces were scattered around Noble County.

The monument in Ava contains the names of the fourteen men, including Commander Zachary Lansdowne, who were killed in the accident. (Twenty-nine crew members survived.) Three specific crash sights contain additional memorial markers and all three were on our itinerary, but before we could proceed, we needed to eat breakfast. After taking a picture of the Ava monument, I waited to cross the road back to the car when what should I see lumbering our way but the previously-passed farm vehicle. Damn! Fortunately for us, we only had to crawl along behind it for another mile before it pulled off into a field and we could throttle back up to the speed limit.

After passing through the village of Belle Valley, we found Patty’s Place (Drink!), a restaurant that promised “homestyle cookin’.” From the moment we stepped in the door, we were impressed by the bright and cheerful feel of the place. Its teal and mauve color scheme harkened back to the 80’s, but that didn’t bother us as it was otherwise ticking all the right boxes: clean decor, friendly staff, and good food! As we enjoyed our scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, we surreptitiously listened to two old codgers seated adjacently to each other at nearby tables. They were carrying on a running commentary regarding each customer who stepped through the front door. Fun facts included where the person lived, how wealthy they were (“I bet he’s still got the first nickel he earned.”), and what they usually ate at Patty’s, as well as a prediction of what might be ordered that morning. If a person were new to Noble County and wanted to learn about their neighbors, a few meals at Patty’s Place might provide some interesting biographies.

After our meal, we backtracked through Belle Valley before turning northeast onto Wargo Road. We then turned east onto Halley’s Ridge Road and passed over I-77 before turning north onto Johnny Woods River Road. The surface pavement gave way to fresh tar, which in turn gave way to gravel once we turned onto Shenandoah Lane. The drive felt momentarily perilous as the narrow loose-stone route began a steep ascent through twisting curves. It eventually leveled off and less than a half-mile later, we reached a small clearing, the location of Shenandoah Crash Site #1.

It was above this area in 1925 where a violent squall twisted the Shenandoah, finally ripping it into two large pieces, causing two crewmen to fall to their deaths. The captain and eleven other crew members died after the control car they were in plummeted to the ground. A granite marker erected in the 1970s marks the location. Next to it, flush to the ground, is an older sandstone marker on which an unidentified local man carved the message “This is the spot” signifying where Commander Lansdowne’s body was found. Robins and cardinals flew about as I took a few photos. After a bit of contemplation, we headed back the way we came.

West of the interstate, we turned north on Wargo Road and then parked at its intersection with Johnny Woods River Road. From that point, we had about a half-mile hike along a grassy lane to Crash Site #2. In a large open meadow sits a huge sign that can be read from the interstate. An American flag flies above it and marks where the tail section of the dirigible finally came to rest after being dragged through some tree tops. Eighteen survivors wound up there.

Our trek to and from Site #2 took on the feel of a nature walk. Colorful wildflowers populated the sides of the trail. We paused to take pictures for later identification. Yellow was the predominate color as found in the bright clusters of Bird’s-foot Trefoil and the cup-shaped Moneywort flowers. The white rays of the Ox-eye Daisy contained yellow disc centers. We also spotted the very pretty Crown-vetch with its purple and white petals, and the pleasantly fragrant, yet menacingly invasive, Japanese Honeysuckle sporting white tube-like blooms. Besides plants, the animal kingdom was represented by a couple of frogs which we startled into jumping out of our path and into the safety of a muddy puddle.

Back in the car, we drove west on Johnny Woods River Road, crossed Ohio Route 821 in Ava, and proceeded on Rayner Road. The pavement once again gave way to gravel when we turned onto Thorny Hill Road. We dropped our slow speed even further when two cars passed us coming from the opposite direction on the narrow county road. I think that was what constitutes a rush hour.

Another turn onto Township Road 1130, also known as John Gray Cemetery Road, led us to – yup, you guessed it – John Gray Cemetery. This small country graveyard is named for its most famous occupant, John Gray, who was believed to be the last surviving veteran of the American Revolutionary War. He died on March 29, 1868, at the age of 104 years, 2 months, and 23 days. Four years after his father was killed at the Battle of White Plains, John, at age 16, volunteered for the Continental Army. He was present at the Battle of Yorktown, where the war concluded upon the surrender of British General Cornwallis.

Gray’s title of “last surviving veteran” isn’t without a little bit of debate. Two other claimants outlived Gray, but you can’t just SAY you’re something without providing some documentation to back it up. Gray was awarded a pension from the U.S. Congress after providing proof of service. Of the other two title candidates, one applied for a pension, but couldn’t prove he served, while the other didn’t even bother applying for a pension.

Gray’s grave is currently marked by two headstones. One is probably the original as it’s quite worn. An inscription appears at its bottom that reads, “The last of Washington's companions / The hoary head is a crown of glory,” but I only know that from what it says on Findagrave.com; the words on the tombstone are nearly illegible. The other stone has clearly engraved markings that record John Gray’s dates of birth and death along with the notation, “Continental Line, Rev. War.”

We again backtracked our route from the cemetery, pausing for a couple minutes on Thorny Hill Road to watch a farmer on his tractor scoop up hay into his baler. To city kids, this is known as entertainment. At Ohio Route 821, we turned south and followed it through Belle Valley again and then on to the county seat of Caldwell.

We parked on the village square that surrounds the Noble County Courthouse. The three-story building was constructed in 1933-1934, and is the largest structure in Caldwell. It resembles more a school than a government building, but since it was built during the Great Depression, allowance should be made for its architectural simplicity. Substantial construction funds were supplied by the Works Project Administration and the county saved additional money by using bricks manufactured in Ava.

Across the street from the courthouse is the Historic Jail Museum & Information Center. As the name implies, it once served as a jail. The 1882 brick building now serves as the county’s museum, but unfortunately, the three days of the week it’s open don’t include Saturdays or Sundays.

Next door to it is Chapman’s Coffee Shop which IS open on Saturdays, but only until 2 pm. We entered with a half hour to spare and so were able to pick up a couple of iced coffee drinks. They tasted good on a warm afternoon. We circumnavigated the square on foot, hoping to pop into shops and stores, but Caldwell’s “downtown” runs on a different schedule. What businesses there are were either closed for the weekend or had locked up at 1 pm. We ended up on a public bench where we relaxed and listened to the silence of the village.

That silence was interrupted however by the sirens of a County Sheriff’s car. It approached us on North Street with its lights flashing, but moving way too slowly for an emergency. We then saw that it was followed by another Sheriff’s vehicle, likewise with sirens blaring and blue and red lights blinking. Third in line was a Caldwell Fire Department truck. There were two more fire and emergency vehicles from Belle Valley at the rear of the procession. Sandwiched between all these First Responders was a Chevy Camaro with a young guy standing up through its sunroof. This parade of vehicles made two slow laps around Courthouse Square before stopping in front an impromptu gathering of friends and family members.

After the completion of the celebration, I approached one of the Sheriff Deputies and inquired as to who was being honored. The young guy in the Camaro was Braxton Barnett, a local sophomore who had participated in four events in Ohio’s recent Division III State Track & Field Meet, and believed to be the first from Shenandoah High School to achieve such a feat. He finished in 7th place in the Long Jump, 4th place in the High Jump, and 3rd place in both the 110- and 300-Meter Hurdles. That achievement is very well-deserving of a parade!

With the cavalcade over and our coffee cups empty, we left Caldwell and drove about four miles west on State Route 78. At a little pull-off on the north side of the road sits the Shenandoah Crash Site #3. After the initial breakup of the airship, the front section continued to float southwest for 12 miles. Over the farm of Ernest Nichols, the crew members, who were hanging on for dear life inside, called down to the farmer to secure the dangling trail ropes and mooring wires. Nichols was able to grab a rope and wrap it around a fence post, part of a well, and a couple of tree stumps. That secured the bow long enough for the crew members to jump to the ground and secure other ropes to trees. It was still buoyant enough to stay aloft and swirl around the farmhouse, so to ensure it wouldn’t inadvertently hit the building, shotguns were used to blow holes in the gas cells to bring the bow to the ground.

In 1925, the crash of the Shenandoah was the biggest spectacle ever to occur in Noble County. News of the tragedy spread quickly via radio. There were already large crowds of tourists visiting the Noble County Fair in nearby Caldwell. It didn’t take long before throngs of people came pushing through fences and stomping across fields to see the wreckage. It also didn’t take long for those throngs to begin picking up keepsakes from the sites; maybe a small piece of cloth or metal. Before long, the souvenirs became larger: armfuls of fabric from the hull and large pieces of metal that required hammers and wrenches to detach. The airship was treated like a dead carcass being picked clean by the visiting vultures.

Aaron J. Keirns, author of Ohio’s Airship Disaster: The Story of the Crash of the USS Shenandoah, summed up the momentary madness: “Much has been written and said about the frenzy of looting and souvenir-hunting that took place when crowds converged on the crash scenes…These folks weren’t insensitive to the fact that lives had been lost in the crash. They didn’t come to desecrate the dead – they came out of natural curiosity. But, as history has proven many times, people do things as part of a crowd that they would never do alone. It’s human nature to want to take away a souvenir from such a once-in-a-lifetime event. But as this simple act of picking up a souvenir became multiplied by thousands of hands, it swelled into a destructive force.”

Since then, there have probably been many local attics cleaned out by bewildered relatives scratching their heads over grandpa’s collection of gnarled metal, silver fabric, and an old crushed Campbell’s soup can.

After completing our disaster tour of the USS Shenandoah, we returned east on State Route 78 to the unincorporated community of Sharon (Take another drink!) and detoured south onto Rich Valley Road. Two and a half miles later, we spotted the Parrish Covered Bridge. The 81-foot-long red span was built in 1914 over the Sharon Fork of Olive Green Creek. It was restored in 2005, but traffic was diverted to a new road, so it no longer carries vehicular traffic. It’s now the main attraction of a pleasant little park.

The aromatic flowers of Common Milkweed grew along unmown sections of the park. We strolled back and forth through the bridge and I was a little surprised by how little graffiti was found on its multiple king post truss timbers. The few examples there were, though, informed me that “Dee ♥ Rod” and “Daniel + Angie.”

Driving back up the road to Sharon (Sure, take another drink.), we noticed for the first time a boarded-up building that was once a lodge for the International Order of Oddfellows, later a business called The General Store, and most recently a private residence. What caught our attention was a big sign the Noble County Sheriff had hung that announced, “No Trespassing. This property has been seized by the Noble County Sheriff’s office due to drug offenses and/or drug use at this residence. If you commit drug offenses, your property could be next!”

I later found the news story that two years ago, the 56-year-old owner of the building was arrested after “detectives seized illegal drugs and several items related to the sale and manufacture of drugs.” An eventual plea agreement resulted in the property being forfeited to the County. I found that sign to be effective advertising on the part of law enforcement!

Speaking of general stores, we returned to the county seat and pulled in at the Caldwell Food Center and Variety Store. Since 1963, this emporium on Olive Street has been supplying residents with food and home goods. After a quick perusal, we came away with some snacks, drinks, and a small concrete cardinal yard ornament. Yup, they’ve got it all!

We drove back through the center of Caldwell, past the courthouse, and then headed west on North Street before exiting the village on T-Ridge Road. As I was by then no longer surprised to discover, the pavement once again gave way to gravel. The road did a bit of bobbing and weaving before we turned north onto Cobb Road. I knew its name only because I was following my map; the road itself didn’t contain a sign. After another half mile, we stopped at a property that would serve as our night’s lodging.

We were greeted by Larry, the friendly owner who lives nearby and runs his business -- a handmade toy company called Amish Toy Box -- on the ground level of a large garage-y type building. On the second floor is the “Corner Cove on Cobb Road” apartment that we found on Airbnb.com. It was clean, roomy, and inexpensive. A plate of cookies and a vase of fresh-cut daisies and Black-eyed Susans welcomed us. There wasn’t a television, but there was complimentary Wi-Fi. Throw in a peaceful rural setting surrounded by a field and orchard and we were quite happy with our accommodations.

After a brief rest break, we were crunching over the gravel again on our way back to Caldwell for supper. On the south edge of town, we found Lori’s Family Restaurant. (Drink again, even though “Lori” is the surname of the restaurant’s owners, Rome and Judy Lori, who opened the eatery in 1989.) I ordered grilled boneless chicken breasts with mashed potatoes & gravy and a trip to the ample salad bar while Michele explored her inner child with a meal of chicken tenders and tater tots. A slice of chocolate peanut butter pie for me and red velvet cake for Michele completed our delicious dinners.

After our meal, we made another stop at the Caldwell Food Emporium for some milk (to go with our morning coffee) and a local newspaper to apprise me of the latest Noble County happenings. The 16-page weekly led with news of Caldwell High School’s commencement celebration.

We also stopped back at the courthouse. I’d forgotten to bring a book with me on our county trip and Michele remembered seeing a Little Free Library on the courthouse lawn. If you’re not familiar with them, Little Free Libraries are book-sharing boxes that “are open seven days a week, 24 hours a day and are freely accessible to all, removing barriers to book access.” The idea for them began in Wisconsin in 2009, but they’re now found worldwide. Anyone can establish one in their front yard. To find one near you, check out https://littlefreelibrary.org/map/ I picked up a paperback of Robin Cook’s 1989 genetic engineering thriller, Mutation, which entertained me back at our apartment in lieu of television.

The following day, we eased into our morning with a complimentary pot of coffee in our Airbnb. By the time we left just before 11 am, the skies had gotten cloudy. We returned to the courthouse square for a Sunday brunch at Kathy’s Kitchen. (Drink up!) It’s located in one of the older, more rustic buildings around the square, but the homemade food was delicious. I was very happy with the daily special of ham loaf with mashed potatoes. I was also happy to see the certificates on the wall that showcased the family diner’s involvement in the community. Multiple certificates showed it often purchasing the “Market Hog” at the annual Noble County Fair.

We left Caldwell on our old friend, Ohio Route 821, driving south through the bottom half of the county. The route parallels the interstate, even crossing underneath it at one point, before arriving at Dexter City, the smallest village in the county with fewer than one hundred residents. Just beyond its village limits, and less than a half-mile from the county border, sits a stone monument. It’s representative of so many commemorative markers planted along roadsides which drivers probably don’t give a second thought. However, we stopped to check this one out so you wouldn’t have to.

The plaque reads, “In memory of John Chapman, famous ‘Johnny Appleseed.’” That’s followed by his dates and places of birth and death and a few lines of simple verse:

Without a hope of recompense,

Without a thought of pride,

John Chapman planted apple trees,

And preached, and lived and died.

One would be forgiven for believing that perhaps the ol’ apple planter died at this spot or is buried here. Nope. On both those counts, the correct Jeopardy! answer would be, “What is Fort Wayne, Indiana?” Did he at least live in the area? No, again. He was mostly a nomad, spreading his seed -- apple seed, that is -- throughout Ohio. He was, however, a frequent visitor to these parts as his father and a passel of half siblings lived in the vicinity. The monument was erected in 1942 and constructed of rocks collected from around the country.

After a couple of quick pics, we drove back through Dexter City and then turned onto Low Gap Road. We followed it east and north past a scattering of homes and farms before connecting to Ohio Route 564, another newly tarred road. (It’s better than gravel!) After a left turn and three more miles, we turned right on Fulda Road. Our route rose as fields gave way to woodlands. We couldn’t see far ahead of us, but after a final bend in the road, the trees cleared away and we arrived at a hilltop dominated by the sudden appearance of St. Mary’s Church of the Immaculate Conception. The impressive brick structure isn’t what one would expect to find in the hinterlands of Noble County. It was built in 1874-75 by a congregation that dates to 1847. Its significance for both architecture and its place in local history earned its placement on the National Register of Historic Places in 1979.

After a quick gander and photo shoot, we returned the way we came back to Ohio Route 564, also known as Frostyville Road, and proceeded northwest back to the county seat. Just shy of the village, we stopped at Thorla-McKee Park, a green space created to commemorate a hole in the ground.

In 1814, early settlers Silas Thorla and Robert McKee were in search of salt. After seeing some deer licking at a spot on the ground, they bored a well in hopes of finding salt brine that would yield the important product after evaporation. They were successful, but the well also brought up oil and natural gas. Unfortunately, pressure would build up and sometimes shoot the brine forty feet into the air or else oil would take the place of the salt water. Two years later, another well was drilled and cased inside a large hollow sycamore tree. That worked much better.

The pair got their salt, but also about a barrel of oil a week. The art of refining oil wouldn’t take place for another few decades, so as any smart entrepreneur will do with a useless by-product, they bottled the dark slimy stuff, called it “Seneca Oil” and marketed it as a cure for colds, rheumatism, aches, and any other ailment the gullible believed it would fix.

The 1816 well hole still exists, encircled by a few inches of the old black sycamore trunk, and surrounded by a protective fence. As if a hole in the ground that periodically gurgles isn’t enough of a draw, the park also has on display a red train caboose that reminds visitors that the narrow gauge Bellaire, Zanesville, and Cincinnati Railroad used to run through Caldwell until 1931. Michele also found a horse in a neighboring field that was kind enough to amble over to the dividing fence to have its neck patted and forehead scratched.

By the way, the Thorla-McKee Well is sometimes referred to as the first oil well in North America, although that title really belongs to a well in Pennsylvania that was drilled in 1859 specifically for the production of oil. Albert Dickas, author of Ohio Rocks! A Guide to Geological Sites in the Buckeye State, makes the designation that Thorla-McKee is “the earliest, but not the first, borehole discovery of oil in the United States.” Semantics.

We made one more pass through Caldwell, pausing at a roadside farm market to purchase strawberries, onions, and tomatoes, before continuing north for 2 ½ miles on Ohio Route 821.

At its juncture with Ohio Route 215, we turned right. The way is also known as Wolf Run Road for the state park to which it allows access. Created in the 1960s after a lake emerged from the damming of the West Fork of Duck Creek, the recreational area offers over 1,000 acres for camping, hunting, and hiking, including 220 acres of water for boating and fishing.

We turned down Park Drive near the eastern end of the park where we were able to access the mile-long Lakeside Trail. Recent rain had left a few patches rather muddy, but overall, it was an enjoyable little trek.

We heard lots of birds, but the day was still overcast, so we had trouble peering into the foliage to discern what birds they were. Fortunately, Michele had recently installed the Merlin app on her phone. It helps identify the birds by their songs and calls. Along with cardinals and robins, which we could probably have recognized on our own, the app let us know that the flutelike ee-o-lay, nasal whining chway, and sweet whistling pee-a-wee, meant that, respectively, the wood thrush, red-eyed vireo, and eastern pewee were singing nearby. There was also the chip-burr of the scarlet tanager and the chick-a-per-weeoo-chick of the white-eyed vireo.

During one of the rare spots where the trees cleared to allow a view of the lake, I caught a couple of Canada geese swimming by with their three small offspring between them.

The two miles of out-and-back hiking was just enough to start a clammy sweat, but thanks to the modern convenience of automobile air-conditioning, we were cooled off in no time.

We continued driving northeast into and out of the village of Sarahsville (Take one last drink!) before pulling into the parking lot at Shenandoah High School. Nearly forty years after the crash of the USS Shenandoah, it was clearly an event that still resonated with folks since they named their newly constructed school for it when the building opened in 1963. The sports teams are known as the Zeps, although it took them decades to alter its logo from a fat blimp to a trimmer and more athletic dirigible.

After returning to the car from taking a picture of the school sign, we noticed a mockingbird had flown in and landed upon it. Every 15-20 seconds, it would leap into the air and flap its wings. This action continued for a couple of minutes. We’d never seen anything like it before, but later discovered that it’s the male’s courtship dance. I’m sure it’s similar to some of the mating rituals that take place each year inside the school building.

Our course continued north along Ohio Routes 147, 566, and 574. The last named route is also known as Skyline Drive for its scenic views of Seneca Lake, a 3,550 acre body of water that provides additional park amenities. However, since it’s not an official Ohio state park, but rather is part of the Muskingum Watershed Conservancy District, there is a nominal admission fee. It appeared quite naturally beautiful, but we kept our wallets closed and continued driving until we were out of the county.

Time spent in the county: 29 hours, 29 minutes

Miles driven in the county: 120

Blog