Chillicothe's City Hall

City Hall undergoing renovations in 1956. This photo includes a white outline of the current City Hall.

(I wrote this a while back, but never posted it. Now that City Council is talking about options for City Hall, I thought I should go ahead and post it. I apologize for the photo quality. I took them with my phone from pages in the actual newspaper.)

Chillicothe is one of the oldest and most historic cities in Ohio, serving two terms as the state capital. And that makes some of the decisions that have been made here very perplexing.

In this blog Chillicothe’s City Hall will serve as an example of what I’m referring to.

 Laid out in 1796, by 1803 Chillicothe was the capital of Ohio – the 17^th state of the United States. It was a place of high importance in state government. Ross County had a courthouse, which sat on the county-owned Public Square (pretty much the same location of today’s Ross County Courthouse). When Ohio became a state and Chillicothe its capital, the little county courthouse became the State Capital Building. That nice little stone building was torn down after the capital was moved to Columbus (See what I mean about decisions? Who really thought that was a good idea?).

Chillicothe, however, despite having been a city for some time, never had a true “city hall.” The only structures the city owned were a firehouse or two. Instead of shelling out the money for their own building, city government would either use space at the firehouse, or simply rent a room or two somewhere for the mayor and the solicitor - rooms that when needed would also serve as City Council Chambers.

That finally changed in 1875.

 

 

In 1874, Mayor E.K. Mick wrote a letter to City Council and recommended that the city finally break down and fund construction of an actual City Hall. He suggested that the lot being used as the city’s Public Market would fit the bill, and that perhaps some of the market’s existing structure could be used. It was, he said, an “eye-sore” and was “seldom used.” The Public Market was located on the west side of South Paint Street, where City Hall is today.

Unfortunately the land on which the Public Market was located had been deeded for use by the city by a local family, with the stipulation that it be used as a public market. The city decided it had the right to construct a city hall there, and there was some legal back and forth. The descendants of the family that had originally donated the land refused to settle for less than the $2,200 penalty that was attached to a violation of the deed.   

The Scioto Gazette backed the idea of a city hall.

“Thank Heaven some good can come out of Nazareth. If the present council will but manage to secure for our city as desirable a change as this, we will not promise to forgive them all their shortcomings, but will agree to be very charitable in our conclusions as regards their actions.”

Ouch! It seems that 138 years ago the Gazette was a little harder on city government than they are now.

The Gazette also wrote that the “den” currently being used as council chambers and the mayor’s office was better suited for a “barber shop” and would be “a disgrace to a town of (just) 500 (people).” In their opinion it was “unsightly” and “miserable” and, they wrote, if just six people showed up for a meeting it was a “packed house.” If the mayor chose to attend a council meeting, then he was “compelled to occupy the ante-room and stick his head through the intervening doorway.”

The Gazette appears to have been correct: A Dr. Lansing refused re-nomination to council, on the advice of his personal doctor, who claimed that his life would be in danger if he was forced to sit through a two hour meeting in the current council chambers.

Throughout the summer of 1874 a newly created standing committee (Public Buildings and Parks), with the help of the city solicitor and engineer, laid plans and solicited bids. As an aside, Councilman Poland insisted the structure include space for a public library.

By late August work began with the removal of the front part of the Public Market. The cornerstone for City Hall was laid in September.

The contract – in the amount of $18,003 – was awarded to Wm. H. McCoy of Marietta, while the design was by local architect John Cook.

According to a Gazette article dated May 19, 1875, the building itself was 45 feet wide and 100 feet long, and had two front entrances – one to the north and one to the south. The Mayor’s office (a spacious 21 feet wide and 45 feet long) was on lower floor in the right front corner (north). Police HQ occupied the entire back (west) end of the building. An addition/extension at the rear of the building was to be used as the city jail. Also at the rear along the alley another part of the skeleton of the market house was roofed and closed in for storage, and would also house the city’s scales. On the 2^nd floor above mayor’s office was the City Library. It had 18 foot ceilings and black walnut shelving for its 5,500 books. There were tables, chairs, and even spittoons. Council Chambers were also on second floor, on the west end (behind the library).

The first City Hall was a beautiful, magnificent building, with class and character. Each floor (or story) was 20 feet high and there was also a 16 foot unfinished attic. Topping the structure off was a bell tower, in which hung the old city bell. Sadly (but perhaps not surprisingly), it was poorly maintained and by the mid-1950s, just 80 years after it was constructed, parts of it were crumbling.

On May 21, 1954 – a month after some gutter, slate, and sheet metal fell onto the sidewalk below - the Municipal Court part of City Hall was condemned by the state building inspector and the state’s deputy fire marshal. However, for nearly two years nothing came of the condemnation.

The court was finally padlocked on February 11, 1956, and space for the court was rented in the Carlisle Building. It operated there until the remodel of City Hall was completed.

Council was originally told that $60,000 would cover the remodel, which included a westerly expansion, relocation of stairs, some fireproofing, new heat and air, and the overall lowering of the structure. As a matter of fact today’s City Hall is some 30 feet shorter than it was before being remodeled. Amazingly, the total height of the current structure barely reaches the top of the original second floor windows. The attic was completely removed, and the height of both the first and second floors was lowered.

The remodeled City Hall was supposed to include a “copper topped” bell tower for the old city bell. However, not only is there not a copper topped bell tower, but the old city bell was never installed and at some point in time it went missing. The bell was originally in the Second Presbyterian Church at the NE corner of S. Paint and Fifth streets. The church folded in 1875 and became the Clough Opera House, which burned on Easter Sunday in 1890.   

The original $60,000 estimate increased steadily and by the time the contract was awarded it was over $100,000, making it a remodel that cost at least five times the original cost of construction, for a significantly smaller and plainer structure. In the end the city would get less and it would cost taxpayers more.

Despite the fact that there was some debris that did fall from the cupola (bell tower), the original structure might not have been in as bad a shape as it was thought. One of the reasons the Municipal Courtroom was condemned by the state was that the floor appeared to be sagging. However, during the remodel, when the floor was exposed, it was found that the timbers were still in excellent shape (as solid as the day they were put in, according to workmen). As a matter of fact, the timbers were cut out and sold to a builder in Athens for use in a commercial building there. Perhaps with a few small structural improvements the magnificent old City Hall didn’t need such a drastic remodel after all.

But it’s too late for that now. Now we can only wonder what this version of City Council will manage to do with the City Hall we have.

The photo above is of city officials in the original council chambers, looking at items in the building that were deemed necessary to save. A representative from the Ross County Historical Society led the tour and identified items of historical importance.

 

A “75 year dream” was realized in Chillicothe on October 7, 1961, when the East Main Street Overpass was dedicated and officially opened for traffic.

More than 5,000 people were on-hand that day for the dedication of what has affectionately become known to residents of Chillicothe and Ross County simply as “The Overpass.”

As early as the 1920s city officials and residents began to dream of ways to eliminate the delays, and the dangers, caused by long, heavily laden trains moving slowly across the city's streets. It was even more of a burden when the trains held up traffic on one of the busiest streets in town. As the photo above shows, years ago there were not only a lot more trains using the tracks, but there were a few more sets of tracks and rail lines than there are today.

By the time City Council approved the “0-5” plan for the overpass, they already had access to $150,000 of voter approved money with which to cover the city’s portion of what would end up being a $1.359 million project. (An approval of the “0-4” plan would’ve had the central span of the overpass swing slightly north.)

Visintine & Co. out of Columbus came in with the lowest bid, winning the construction contract. Federal dollars amounting to $1.106 million paid for the majority of the project. In addition to the city’s share, which ended up being only $123,000, the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad (B&O) paid $65,000, as did the Norfolk and Western (N&W). The N&W also agreed to relocate at least one set of tracks to accommodate the overpass, and at least one railroad building was torn down and rebuilt in another spot.

The overpass itself ended up being 650 feet long (and is made up of 15 “spans”); it is 57 feet wide, meant to accommodate a six-foot sidewalk, two-foot medium, and 27-inch safety curb (and four lanes of traffic of course). It was also designed to be a minimum of 23 feet above the railroad tracks.

Before the groundbreaking even took place (which was on July 16, 1960) 44 property owners had made damage claims amounting to $1.15 million, and lawsuits followed the construction. Detours began to go up on July 7, 1960 and parking bans were imposed. Both the detours and the parking bans inconvenienced residents, and while some grumbled, most took it in stride.

Officials invited the public to attend the groundbreaking, and even allowed them to take part – as long as they brought their own shovel. Everyone who attended was to receive a souvenir sticker.

Despite the damage claims and any lawsuits, no one denied the need for an alternative to the daily traffic delays. A study cited in the Chillicothe Gazette on July 7, 1960 found that there were 7,826 “car crossings” of those E. Main Street tracks in the 24 hour period surveyed, as well as 138 “train movements” during that same time period. Wow! 138 train movements! I’m not sure how many there are today but there can’t be more than, what, a couple dozen a day? One thing though that is for certain is that there are certainly more “car crossings” now.

On July 26, 1960, crews digging a 100 foot long, 7 foot deep, 12 foot wide trench uncovered two small sandstone grave markers. The markers belonged to a sister and brother: Eliza Ann Dunlap, who had died August 16, 1823 at just nine months and 18 days; and Joseph Benson Dunlap, who died less than a year later, May 22, 1824, at just eight months of age. Both were children of Joseph and Margaret Dunlap. It was reported that the carving in the headstones was still quite clear, even though the burials were 137 years old.

That area of course had once served as the “Old” Presbyterian Cemetery (one of two original Presbyterian Cemeteries, the other and probably older one being near the modern intersection of Bridge and Riverside streets – too close to the river to have been a good idea). The old cemetery land had been purchased in 1870 by the Scioto Valley Railroad (which later became part of N&W). The graves were dug up, and their occupants moved to either Greenlawn or Grandview.

After nearly 52 years “The Overpass” has done its job quite well. Now that travel and trade by rail are both significantly less than they were 50 years ago, some people talk about bringing the concrete mountain down. I don’t think it will happen – unless for some reason the cost of repairing or maintaining it is more than the cost of tearing it down. But then those same people who complain about it being there would likely complain the most about having to wait once in a while for a train to pass, or scream the loudest about the dangers when some careless driver or pedestrian ended up being hit by a train.

Can you imagine the size of the potential backups at the Main and Bridge street intersection when a nice long train crawled its way across the tracks at rush hour?

For what it’s worth, I for one hope that someday trains make a comeback. I hate sharing my highways with so many 18-wheelers, and I think if we’re ever going to decrease our dependence on foreign oil, using trains instead of semis to move goods is a great place to start.

So for now let’s keep our ugly concrete mountain right where it is… just in case.

In a continuing effort to write something interesting and something that people might actually want to read, I thought I’d try a “photo blog” with a local history theme. The concept is simple: Find an old photo of Chillicothe or Ross County (I have acquired lots of them over the last few years – though perhaps not always legally in the Internet age…) and hopefully point out some interesting facts about said photo.

This blog is my first effort.

Hopefully, there’s an old photograph for you to look at above these words. If there’s not, I’ve failed already.

The picture you see is an aerial photograph, dated 1955. It was the property of the Columbus Citizen Journal, and I believe the newsworthy event may have been changes to US 23 south, perhaps in conjunction with the construction of a plant a few miles south of Chillicothe that could enrich uranium for atomic bombs.

It’s a fantastic photo that scanned in beautifully for whoever scanned it, and saved very nicely for me, as I borrowed it from the Internet (www.photohio.org).

 There are lots of things to see here, but I have only enough space to point out a few of them.

Let’s start in the very middle of the photo. That’s of course Bridge Street (US 23) snaking its way from north to south (or bottom to top, whichever you prefer). There’s a fairly new bridge to see, but also notice down at the intersection of Bridge and Main, that the color of the actual street seems to change, from a light gray to an almost white color. That’s because Bridge Street south of Main is a pretty new roadway in 1953. Up until 1951 Bridge ended at Main. If this photo were a few years older Bridge Street would stop at Main and if you were sitting in your car on Bridge looking south, you’d be facing a row of buildings (including an aptly named restaurant, Bridge End). Fourth, Fifth and the rest of the “number” streets that today dead-end into, or cross S. Bridge would not have done so, but would simply continue there without an intersection or a dead-end.

Since we’re on Bridge Street, also notice Eastern School, which is the big building standing at the northwest corner of Bridge and Main. The school was built there in 1870, abandoned in 1951, and today that area is occupied by a gas station, a motel, and a McDonalds.

Moving to the bottom of the photo (and the thing I find most the most interesting of all) are all of the buildings that line the Scioto River along Riverside Street (both east and west of Bridge). In 1953 there was no floodwall (thus the big floods of 1913 and 1959). Of course, in 2012 those buildings are all gone: they were bought up one-by-one over the years, until 1977, when they were torn down and work on the floodwall began. What amazes me is that all of those structures “fit” between the river and the street – especially to the west of Bridge. It just doesn’t seem wide enough to have once held all of these homes and businesses, and to me it even looks like they moved Riverside a few feet further south, so it would match up with the intersection of Riverside east of Bridge (there’s a little bend now in Riverside at Hickory that doesn’t appear to be there in this photo). 

  In the lower left quarter of the photo are Hirn Street, Scioto Avenue, and N. Sugar Street. What catches my eye in this aerial view is how nice, wide, and tree-lined Hirn Street looks. A drive down there today reveals a street that looks nothing like this photo indicates it might have looked six decades ago.

Moving south (up in the photo to the top left quarter) we find Chillicothe’s railroad “station.” How amazing is it that almost every one of those buildings is now gone, just 60 short years later? The mass production of automobiles for travel, the preference for using tractor trailers to haul goods, combined with the expansion and improvement of the U.S. highway and interstate system following World War II, nearly made the use of rails extinct (and the automobile has contributed significantly to the loss of many of old structures in Historic Chillicothe for parking lots – again, more on that in a future blog). In the photo you can see Union Station, the “U” shaped roundabout, and other buildings, including the railroad offices along E. Main. One thing you can’t see though in this photo is the “Overpass,” which wasn’t completed until 1961 (again, more on that I think in a future blog).

At the top (or far south) of the photo you can see the paper mill (or mills if you prefer). What’s interesting is how well you can see Hickory Street running south and straight into the Mead side of the mill. Over the years many of the streets and homes down there were purchased by the paper giant, the structures torn down, and those areas – that were once city blocks – became part of the mill. In some spots you can still make out the streets.

Moving to N. Hickory Street and the lower right side of the photo there stands a building that most recently housed Craftsman Printing (if memory serves). The business is long gone, but the building still stands (for now). I don’t know exactly what its original use was but I’m sure it had something to do with the railroad, which ran right beside it (I believe that would’ve been the N&W line, which ran east-to-west through the city, while the B&O went north-to-south and can be seen in the photo leaving the city and heading south along US 23) The north-south rail line is still in use of course, and is today CSX (from a merger of Baltimore and Ohio with the Chesapeake and Ohio line).

In almost the exact center of the photo, just east (left) of Main Street and in the middle of the block between Water and Second streets, is another large building situated along the N&W line. I haven’t done the research to try and find out what business may have been there in 1953 or when the structure was torn down, but today it’s an empty lot (Google Maps/Earth shows it clearly, as does a drive down there).

There’s a lot more to see in this photo, but I’m tired of writing and I’m sure you’re finished reading, so we’ll stop there.

I hope to find other interesting old photos to blog about on a semi-regular basis. And I hope a few people actually read this, otherwise it’s not worth much. But enjoy, and feel free to correct my mistakes (I’m a little concerned about getting the railroads right), or add comments and share even more of our local history with others.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!