LICKING COUNTY
“Ancestors”
14-16 July 2023
If there’s a prize for the thoroughfare with the most names, then a medal should be hung around the neck of the route on which we entered Licking County. It was part of the National Road when it was constructed through the county in the 1830s. Some referred to it as the National Pike. It was also known as the Main Street of America. When the United States began numbering its highways in 1926, U.S. Route 40 was added to its list of labels.
Contrary to the legions of pioneers who originally moved west along this road, we drove east on Route 40 passing beyond the corporation limits of Reynoldsburg and through the now-invisible crossroads community of Wagram before turning north at Etna. Three miles later, we found ourselves in the business district of Pataskala settling in at a table at the Nutcracker Family Restaurant.
The Nutcracker has been a staple in the community for over a quarter of a century since Steve and Nancy Butcher founded the business, first as a candy shop and later as a restaurant. Their son Steve Jr. and his wife Kim have since taken over proprietorship. Its décor is pure 1950s diner with lots of artifacts from that decade. There are jukeboxes, barber poles, neon signs, and a model red 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air hanging on a wall. While the boomerang-design Formica table tops evoked a strong sense of nostalgia, my favorite piece of interior decoration was a mural depicting a drive-in theater where a wall-mounted TV served as the big screen. So as not to forget the name of the restaurant, the walls are also lined with a varied collection of nutcrackers.
There’d be room for criticism if the kitsch served as smoke and mirrors for inferior service and food, but that was not the case. The busy waitstaff remained friendly and efficient as orders were taken and coffee cups kept filled. I was happy with my choice of the Nutcracker Breakfast consisting of two eggs (scrambled), meat (bacon), potatoes (cheesy casserole), biscuits & gravy, and toast (wheat). Michele’s order of the Country Breakfast, mirrored mine, but minus the biscuits & gravy.
The tombstones of James and Sarah Taggart
We left Pataskala on Blacks Road, a rural route that took us through bits of farmland. Cornfields alternated with acres of soybeans. The road eventually ended at Beaver Run Road near Licking Cemetery. The graveyard is similar to many others that dot the county, but this one is of special interest to me. It contains the final resting spots of my great-great-great grandparents, James and Sarah Taggart. I don’t know much about them beyond basic vital statistic dates. They married in 1805 in New Jersey and traveled to Ohio in the early 1820s. James died in 1837 and Sarah 32 years later. They were the parents of 11 children which resulted in generations of Taggart descendants left a-moldering in the grave in Licking County. I first discovered James and Sarah’s burial site about a decade ago. Their markers still stand, but are barely legible and they’re fading more with each passing season. I thought I’d check in on them while I was in the neighborhood.
We drove south on Canyon Road and entered the village of Hebron by the backdoor, passing by Evans Park on our way to Main Street. On the surface, there’s not much to distinguish this town of about 2,300 residents from similar communities around the state, but a deep dive into its history reveals a unique detail. The state ramped up public works projects in the second quarter of the 19th century with construction of the National Road and the Ohio and Erie Canal. Those two important transportation routes improved the movement of people and agricultural products, and they just so happened to intersect smack dab in the middle of Hebron. For a while, the town was a busy and raucous market place. Things settled down after the speedier railroad replaced the canal, but Hebronites remember their time in the spotlight with a historic marker near the original spot of convergence and the proud nickname, Historic Crossroads of Ohio.
About a mile and a half south of town, along Canal Road, is the Hebron Fish Hatchery, one of six such facilities in the state. It was built in 1938 and was run by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service before ownership transferred to the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, Division of Wildlife in 1982. The property’s 235 acres consist of 63 ponds. Every year they produce more than 10.5 million saugeye and six million walleye. Other fish, such as channel catfish, blue catfish, and bluegill, are produced in smaller amounts. These are used mostly to restock Ohio’s public waters.
We popped into the main building, but the staff must have been out working as we didn’t see anyone. I was going to take a leisurely stroll around a couple of the ponds, but right away I noticed the grass was heavily mined with goose poop, so I bagged that idea. Instead, I crossed the road and took a picture of a wooden truss covered bridge. It was built in 1998 and sits on the Ohio Canal Greenway, a three-mile multi-purpose recreational trail.
We drove back into Hebron and south on High Street. We pulled off the road so I could take a moment to stare at a cornfield. This one had special meaning for me as it was once known as the Taggart Farm and was where my father was born and raised. Long after the property was sold out of the family and the house was torn down, my dad and I would stop when we were in town and stare at the fields. I wonder what thoughts passed through his mind on those occasions. A copse of tall trees now marks where the house once stood. It’s where, a decade ago, we spread most of my dad’s ashes after he died at the age of 90. I’m sure the day will come when I drive by and find a housing development in place of crops. Until then, I stop when I’m in Hebron to look out over the fields and remember.
Continuing south out of town, we crossed over Interstate 70 and headed into the village of Buckeye Lake to the North Shore of its namesake 3,100-acre lake. Buckeye Lake holds the distinction of being the oldest state park in Ohio. Two hundred years ago, it was just a big swampy area, but after a dike was constructed to raise the water level, it was given the name Licking Summit Reservoir and served as a feeder lake for the Ohio and Erie Canal. After the demise of the canal, the state rechristened it Buckeye Lake and dedicated it as a public park.
Revelers came from all around Central Ohio, especially after an amusement park and dance hall were added. In the mid-20th century, the joint was definitely jumping, but people had begun looking elsewhere for their fun by the time the park closed in 1970. All that remains now from that period are the memories of old-timers and the fountain that once graced the midway. After a sprucing-up in the mid-80s, the four-tiered fount was placed near the North Shore boat launch.
“Take my license and all that jive, I just can’t drive five”
It was a beautiful day to be out on the water, but a very sweaty day to be standing under the blazing sun, so after a couple of quick camera snaps, I forfeited a stroll along the waterfront for the cool air-conditioning of our Ford Escape.
We turned the car around and headed north along Ohio Route 79, bypassing Hebron, and motoring into Heath, the county’s third largest city with just over 10,000 residents. Its history is fairly recent, having been established as a village in 1952, but it grew rapidly, attaining city status just a dozen years later. The land on which it’s situated, however, contains a much longer history.
We pulled the car over into a dirt space on the east side of the road between Kaiser Drive and Coffman Boulevard. There sits a couple of historic markers and a section of stone canal wall commemorating the groundbreaking for the Ohio and Erie Canal. At or near this spot, on July 4, 1825, Governor DeWitt Clinton of New York, turned the first shovelful of dirt. He was bestowed that honor for being the prime booster behind the construction of the Erie Canal. It didn’t escape my irony detector that as everyday vehicles zipped by me at anywhere between 35-50 mph, I read about a much-praised mode of 19th century transportation that rarely exceeded 5 mph.
We continued north for another two and a half miles, toward the county seat of Newark and past the urban sprawl of Indian Mound Mall and a wake of chain businesses with brands you’d expect to see anywhere in the world (Tim Hortons, Jiffy Lube, JOANN Fabric and Crafts, etc.). We turned in at the Great Circle Earthworks, one third of what is collectively known as the Newark Earthworks, the largest set of geometric earthen enclosures in the world. In. The. World.
The series of earthworks are thought to have been constructed between A.D. 1 and A.D. 400. The original formations, consisting of circles, squares, octagons, parallel embankments, and circular and elliptical mounds, were laid out over four square miles and are believed to have served as a cathedral, cemetery, and astronomical observatory. Only three segments have survived the growth of Newark.
The first segment we explored was the Great Circle Earthworks. The small museum just outside the earthworks was a good place to start to get some historical context. Then we walked the grounds which was the best way to get a true sense of just how massive they are.
The Great Circle is nearly 1,200 feet in diameter and consists of eight-foot high earthen walls. We strolled around inside it, trying to identify some of the wildflowers and flowering weeds growing inside the interior five-foot deep dry moat. (Morning glory? Bindweed? Is there a difference?) As already mentioned, it was a hot day and the circle was BIG, so we cut our circumambulation short and walked across its middle, past a low central mound which has been given the name Eagle Mound, although it’s not a true effigy. Excavations determined it once covered a large structure known as a Hopewell Big House. (Hopewell Culture is the name given to the native people who inhabited the land at that time, although we don’t know today what they called themselves. “Hopewell” comes from the name of the landowner where the first mounds given that name were located.)
Historical earthworks can be fascinating, but they can also stimulate a great thirst, especially under steamy weather conditions, so we took a break from our tour to drive into downtown Newark for a beer. There are quite a few brewpubs scattered about the city, but we settled on Stein Brewing Company on West Church Street. [Please note: About two weeks after our visit, Stein Brewing was rebranded Shipp Brothers Brewing.]
This tap house incorporates the self-pour process, which has been around for at least a decade in select spots around the country, although this was our first time encountering it. It left us asking, why can’t every bar be this way?! Along one wall was a series of 36 taps offering a selection of local and out-of-town craft beers and ciders. Using a debit card that fits into a notch above each tap, customers pick and pour their drink selections with the price determined by volume, usually around 22 or 24 cents per ounce. Remember all those times you were served a “pint” of beer that contained an inordinate amount of foam? Well, if you do that by mistake here, no problem, because you’re only paying for the liquid poured, not the foam produced. Ingenious!
The staff were incredibly patient and kind in explaining the process to us even though I’m sure it was the umpteenth time they’d done so. Michele opted for a pint of cider while I selected a flight of five smaller pours. Not all were winners (Isn’t that the purpose of the flight, to discover what new beers you like and what ones you don’t?), but standouts, in my opinion, included Stein’s own Colonel Andrew Brown Ale (a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg), Space Cake Imperial IPA from Clown Shoes, and Dented Silo Red Ale from 16 Lots. With our thirsts sufficiently slaked, we continued our tour of ancient monuments.
Just over a half mile northeast of the Great Circle, as the falcon soars, sits the least impressive of the three-part Newark Earthworks, the Wright Earthworks. This area once contained a square formation that enclosed about 20 acres. Now, at the north end of James Street, between a steel tank manufacturer and a highway, all that remains are two low earthen walls on a small patch of greenspace. One wall was a portion of the old square while the other was part of a parallel embankment that led from the square to a large oval enclosure. We wouldn’t even have this much to spark our imagination if Mrs. Frances Rees Wright hadn’t donated the land to the Ohio Historical Society in 1934.
Just over a mile northwest of the Wright Earthworks, as the heron flies, is the third site of the remaining geometric formations, the Octagon Earthworks. Unfortunately, also located on that spot is the Moundbuilders Country Club. Since 1910, a golf course at 125 North 33rd Street, has leased the land from the Ohio History Connection. I’m a fan of the sport, but I don’t know how any weekend golfer can in good conscience hack their way around a course that zig zags through an ancient structure that holds religious meaning for an indigenous people. Are they just oblivious? Do they think the 5-6 feet high walls are just a unique form of hazard like a sand trap or a pond?
Fortunately, the days of little white balls driving through the air over the earthworks are numbered. Last year, the Ohio Supreme Court ruled 6-1 that the Ohio History Connection could take back the land through eminent domain and transform the property into a public park.
The Octagon Earthworks may be the most impressive of all the geometric formations. It is made up of eight walls, each measuring about 550 feet long. In 1982, it was discovered that the original architects aligned the earthworks to a complicated cycle of risings and settings of the moon, including the four moonrises and moonsets that mark the limits of a complex 18.6-year lunar cycle.
Currently, there are only four days a year when non-members/golfers are allowed to walk the grounds of the Octagon and the day of our visit was not one of them. Like starving urchins thrown scraps of bread from a country club window, we were allowed to ascend a small platform near the clubhouse and gaze out at the earthworks while golf carts motored among them. We then followed a short path outside the course that led almost all the way to a 12-foot high loaf-shaped formation known as Observatory Mound, which may have served as an ancient viewing platform for the lunar cycles.
I look forward to the day of my return when I’ll be able to freely and respectfully roam the grounds while contemplating the meanings of the past without hindrance from an exclusive and privileged club. (Power to the people!) With any luck, the location will be a UNESCO World Heritage Site by then. As part of a larger grouping of state sites known as the Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks, their pending nomination for recognized international significance will be ratified in September of 2023.
Before leaving Newark, we took a trip down Memory Lane. Actually, it was Londondale Parkway. That’s where Michele lived for about a year and a half when she first moved to Central Ohio in 1994. She lived with her cousin in her cousin’s condo. Flash forward nearly two decades and Michele found not much had changed. Her cousin no longer lives there, but the custom-made unit number plate with her surname initial still marks the front entrance. Maybe the current owner’s name begins with an S, too.
We finally left the city for the short jump to neighboring Granville, driving on the appropriately named Newark-Granville Road. Before entering the city proper, we took a short detour up Bryn Du Drive. If you’re in the market for some swanky property, you may want to check out the homes on this road. Our goal, however, was at the high point of land at the road’s cul-de-sac where resides an effigy formation known as Alligator Mound.
Was it really meant to represent an alligator? Probably not. Ohio History Connection archaeologist Dr. Bradley Lepper believes it is an Underwater Panther, a powerful supernatural spirit of the Native Americans who lived during the time of the mound’s creation about 700 years ago. Its description as a fierce four-legged, long-tailed entity may have been lost in translation between the Native and European Americans and misrepresented as an American alligator. Others saw an opossum or raccoon in the effigy which stretches about 250 long with a body about 40 feet wide with 36-foot-long limbs. It was between 4-6 feet high when noted historians Squire and Davis surveyed it in 1848, but subsequent agricultural use reduced the height. If I had a drone to look directly down on it, I might have gotten a better feel for its shape, but from ground level, the undulating outline didn’t produce any particular image beyond random lumpy mounds.
We drove on into Granville and checked into our room at the Granville Inn. The hotel isn’t the cheapest place to stay, but is certainly worth the splurge. It opened in 1924 after coal and railroad magnate John Sutphin Jones had prominent Columbus architect Frank Packard “design the Inn to reflect the Jacobethan Revival style of an English country manor house.” I’m a sucker for dark wood and stone and the Granville Inn has it in spades.
When we learned guests were also entitled to a complimentary breakfast, we felt the price of the room was brought down from the level of “crazy expensive” to that of only “very expensive.” It’s not as though it’s the highest-priced hostelry in town either. That award goes to the Buxton Inn across the street. Its history goes all the way back to 1812. It also boasts more per capita ghost hauntings, if you’re into that kind of thing, but be prepared to pay for it. The Buxton Inn rates will cost you TWO wheelbarrowsful of money whereas the Granville Inn will only cost you one.
We relaxed for a while with drinks on the front patio. The Inn is currently owned by the village’s institution of higher education, Denison University, so I’m sure it gets its share of deep-pocketed parents staying there. A couple tables away, I spotted what looked to be a mother and son, perhaps checking out prospective schools. The entire time we were there, they spent their quality time staring at their respective phones.
At 6 pm, we hopped back in our car and returned to Newark for an evening of food and entertainment. Had we been smart, we would have made dinner reservations. We parked in the courthouse square and then went foraging on foot. We were not alone. Throngs of people were out enjoying the beautiful Friday night in the county seat. The first two restaurants we tried were packed to the gills and had prohibitive wait times. We ended up back at Stein Brewing Company where we felt lucky there were only 20 minutes between our arrival and our seating.
Michele and I shared a three-dip tortilla chip appetizer (black bean, buffalo chicken, and queso Mexi street corn), which was outstanding, and a Nashville Chicken sandwich that was so-so. We noticed most of the diners were clearing out shortly before 8 pm, which led us to believe they were all heading to the same place we were: The Midland Theatre to see Los Lobos in concert.
The Midland is a Newark success story. It opened in 1928 and was the place for live entertainment and motion pictures for half a century. After closing in 1978, it began a 14-year period of decay. Fortunately, Dave Longaberger of The Longaberger Company purchased the property in 1992 and invested $8.5 million in renovation and restoration. After eight years, it began a new life as an 1,800-seat venue. Longaberger then entrusted the theater to The Newark Midland Theatre Association, a local volunteer, non-profit organization.
It was our first time seeing Los Lobos live and I was not disappointed. The tour was celebrating the band’s 50th anniversary and they still sounded great. It’s hard not to think of this East L.A. band as a national treasure. As Wikipedia succinctly explains, “Their music is influenced by rock and roll, Tex-Mex, country, zydeco, folk, R&B, blues, brown-eyed soul, and traditional music such as cumbia, boleros and norteños.” The crowd responded well to the 90-minute set. It included my personal favorites “Will the Wolf Survive,” “Kiko and the Lavender Moon,” and the Grateful Dead cover, “West L.A. Fadeaway.” The encore added Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl” and a medley of “LaBamba” and The Rascals’ “Good Lovin’.” (Click here for a random YouTube video from the show)
One minor annoyance from the show had to do with the crowd. As I already mentioned, those in attendance were true fans who welcomed the band with enthusiasm. I’d guess the age demographics matched that of the band members. While many people enjoy an adult beverage before a concert, it should be remembered that one’s continence may not be as strong as when one was younger. Multiple beers are going to necessitate multiple trips to the restroom, not only causing large chunks of the show to be missed, but also causing a nuisance to your seatmates whose attention to the show is constantly being interrupted as you come and go. Just saying…
On our walk back to the car, I paused to take a couple of nighttime photos of the Licking County Courthouse. After a fire destroyed the previous courthouse in 1875, the current one was constructed in the Second Empire style incorporating various European architectural styles from various periods. The building serves as the centerpiece of downtown Newark and remains one of the oldest Ohio courthouses still in use.
Back in Granville, we quickly fell asleep in our room after a full day of county trippin’.
Yes, that is an actual building. Crazy shit.
The following morning, we were reenergized with the Granville Inn complimentary breakfast. And we’re not talking a box of cold cereal and a donut. We were able to choose from a list of ten varied breakfasts. We both opted for the “Granville Inn Breakfast” which consisted of two eggs, sausage or bacon, choice of home fries or fresh fruit, choice of toast, and a beverage.
Back on the road again, we headed back to Newark on Ohio Route 16. On the east side of town, we exited at Dayton Road and continued east on Main Street for a half mile before reaching the world’s largest basket building. The seven-story structure opened in 1997. It served as headquarters for The Longaberger Company, a manufacturer of specialized handcrafted maple wood baskets. The building resembles its signature Medium Market Basket. At its peak in 2000, the business employed 8,200 people and had $1 billion in sales. A dozen years later, sales had fallen to $100 million. In 2016, the Basket Building was vacated and put up for sale. Two years later, the company filed for bankruptcy and closed.
The building measures 192 feet long and 126 feet wide on the ground, but like a basket, expands out to 208 feet long and 142 feet wide at the roof line. It was purchased at the end of 2017 for $1.2 million. Various ideas for repurposing were floated including converting it into a luxury hotel, but nothing has come to fruition and it remains empty. It also remains a roadside attraction. During our quick stop for a picture, we noticed other gawkers standing around the parking lot. One car had Florida plates. It never ceases to amaze me how many people are constantly out and about looking for crazy shit, but then I count myself among them.
We drove another five and a half miles east on Ohio Route 16 and then south on Toboso Road to get to Black Hand Gorge State Nature Preserve. This 775-acre preserve is a favorite among hikers, bikers, and dog-walkers. The gorge follows the Licking River and contains a four-mile paved path along its south side. We’ve walked that way on previous visits and while it does provide a nice leg-stretcher, it can become a bit boring after a while, so this time around, we investigated a half-mile dirt trail on the north side.
The name of the gorge gets its name from a dark, hand-shaped Native American petroglyph that was engraved on the face of the northside sandstone cliff. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?! Too bad it was destroyed during the construction of the Ohio & Erie Canal through the gorge in 1828. Our trail contained a portion of stones from Lock 16 of the canal. Cool, yes, but I would have preferred a petroglyph.
Farther along, the path passes through a 350-foot long tunnel. The hole was blasted out of the sandstone at the beginning of the 20th century so that the Ohio Electric Railway, commonly known as the Interurban, could pass more directly through the gorge. It ran between 1903-1929.
Everywhere along this trail we found interesting things to see including remnants of human history, spectacular shelf formations of Blackhand sandstone, and interesting wildflowers such as spiderwort, bee balm, and asters. We also discovered a piece of 85-year-old graffiti etched on a rock that read, “W.P.A. 10-23-38.” A few sprinkles of rain began falling during our hike, but the drops felt refreshing and didn’t warrant an opening of umbrellas.
From the gorge, we drove south on Gratiot Road and west on Flint Ridge Road. These two-lane country roads were bordered by a mixture of rolling fields and wooded lots. On the latter, we were also unknowingly driving over a rich vein of flint, although the name of the road should have given us a clue. The deposit is about three-by-six miles in size running in an east-west orientation, and is two-12 feet thick.
Paleo-Indians knew about this flint as long as 10,000 years ago, but production was really ramped up about 3,000 years ago. This flint, known more specifically as Vanport Flint, was used to create a variety of tools including knives, spearpoints, scrapers, arrowheads, and drill bits. We learned all about that and more in the museum at the Flint Ridge Ancient Quarries and Nature Preserve, an Ohio History Connection site. The building is unique in that it was constructed over one of the many pits from which the flint was quarried.
If you’re not a rockhead, I’ll quickly explain that flint is a very hard form of sedimentary rock, earning a 7 on the Mohs Hardness Scale; below a diamond, but above steel. Vanport Flint can consist of quite colorful patterns, which is probably why it’s Ohio’s official gemstone. I’m sure hunters from a couple thousand years ago took a little more pride in their pursuit when they found the pointy flint they used to kill their prey was beautiful as well as lethal.
With the afternoon waning, we returned to Newark and found DankHouse Brewing Company where Forry Street and Seneca Drive meet. Set inside an unassuming large garage-y-type building, the tap house struck me as the embodiment of the Third Place, that communal spot where folks can relax and be themselves. And if there are twenty brews to choose from, all the better. As the sign on the wall read, “Life and beer are very similar. Chill for best results!”
There were already quite a few people there when we arrived and more kept coming during our stay. Michele and I each ordered a flight of beers so we could sample multiple taps. If I remember correctly (I should have taken better notes!), the standouts included their Super Fantastic, an American IPA, and Seoul Mates, an 8% ABV hazy double IPA they say is a “virtual beer” made with their “new friends over at the Beer Up Bottle Shop in Seoul, Korea.”
We lucked out with the weather. A heavy downpour showered the city while we were inside being convivial. By the time we left, all aglow with that contentedness that comes with day drinking, the rain had been reduced to a dribble.
We made the short drive back to downtown to check out more of the courthouse square. At the corner of Third and Main Streets, I found the Home Building Association building, also known as “The Old Home.” It was one of eight “jewel box” bank buildings designed by noted American architect Louis Sullivan. The overall shapes of the structures were pretty basic – square or rectangular – but were lavishly decorated with colorful ornamentation. Newark’s jewel features heraldic lions guarding radiant tile mosaics.
The Old Home opened in 1915. In the century that followed, it served as a bank, a butcher shop, a jewelry store, and an ice cream parlor. It also suffered abuse and extensive alteration. However, after being gifted to the Licking County Foundation in 2013, it began a return to its former glory through extensive restoration. When completed, it’s planned to be a community space and a new home for Explore Licking County, the local tourism organization.
After snapping a few photos of the building, I joined Michele a block away at Chickie’s General Store. It’s described as an eclectic deli where you can dine on fresh-made subs and salads or supply yourself with Amish cheese and deli meats, all while shopping a wide selection of candy, snacks, and other Ohio made products. We purchased a couple bags of gourmet popcorn and a package of orange cookies to be nibbled on later at a time yet to be determined.
At the northeast corner of the square, we came upon two pieces of public art that incorporated real life figures sitting on park benches. I’m a sucker for this kind of thing. One featured “Mark Twain,” as performed by Ohio native Hal Holbrook. The bench across the street from Twain was named “Crossing Paths.” It portrayed two women having a conversation. I snapped a picture of Michele as she listened in.
When we realized it was dinner time, we walked back over to West Main Street to Elliott’s Wood Fired Kitchen and Tap. It was one of our choices from the previous night when we experienced the shutout. On this occasion, we got seated right away. We split a hummus appetizer followed by a Bacon, Chicken, and Ranch pizza with thin crust. While eating we continued a conversation we’d begun at DankHouse regarding what we perceive as a connection between craft breweries and a liberal clientele.
After our meal, we returned to our lodging in Granville. We had a hankering for coffee, but the concierge at the Granville Inn informed us there weren’t any coffee shops in town that stayed open in the evening. We were left drinking complimentary beverages from the Keurig machine on the second floor. Yes, it was free, but Keurig coffee always leaves me wondering why I’m drinking it again when I found the previous Keurig coffee I had to be so unsatisfying.
Michelle listening in.
Day Three in Licking County began with another delicious complimentary breakfast at the Inn’s dining room. It’s not often that a county trip lasts long enough for two overnight stays, but Licking County’s 682 square miles ranks it third in area among Ohio’s 88 counties, so there’s plenty to see and experience.
After checking out of the inn, we drove in the familiar direction back to Newark, but didn’t stop. Instead we drove south on Ohio Route 79, used Hopewell Drive to connect us to Ohio Route 13, and then followed it south about four miles to Dawes Arboretum.
It would be easy to take for granted Dawes’ nearly 2,000 acres of rolling fields, thick forests, kaleidoscopic gardens and other serene natural areas. It’s been around for nearly a century since Beman and Bertie Dawes established the arboretum in 1929. They loved nature and wanted to inspire others to plant trees. The grounds are scattered with plaques commemorating tree-planting ceremonies featuring various celebrities.
Over 100 such events have taken place over the decades. During our stroll along the Daweswood and Parkwoods Trails, we came upon many of them, such as the one marking the American elm that General John J. “Black Jack” Pershing planted in 1929, and the one at the base of a northern red oak that former heavyweight boxer Gene Tunney stuck in the ground two years later.
We eventually wound our way down the Lake Trail, past the Japanese Garden, and planted ourselves on a bench where we communed with nature. We witnessed fish jumping at the pond, turtles sunning themselves on the shore, and birds doing what birds do. It was a pleasant, quiet respite. If we lived closer, we’d seriously consider an annual membership. Daily ambles at the arboretum would almost certainly lead to a more tranquil life.
Before leaving the property, we returned to our car and drove to its southeast corner so we could climb the 30-foot observation tower and see the 2,050-foot long hedge that spells out “Dawes Arboretum.” They should have built the tower at least twice as high. The hedge is so big and long that we could only distinguish the last few letters.
Back on Ohio Route 13, we continued south a couple miles to Jacksontown (or “Jacktown” if you want to sound like a local.) and then east on U.S. Route 40 for another mile to Fairmount Road. Situated on the northeast corner is the Fairmount Cemetery. Between an 1883 red brick Presbyterian church and the graveyard sits a conical mound, 15-feet-high and 80-feet in diameter. The shape is common among the Adena Culture which would date it to between 500 BC and AD 50, but like many conical mounds in the state, it has not been professionally investigated, so its true age and cultural affiliation remain unknown. It’s still fun to look at.
We returned to Route 13 and drove it north nearly the length of the county. Our route took us through Newark for the final time. We then had a set of railroad tracks as a companion as far as St. Louisville. After crossing the North Fork of the Licking River a couple of times, we finally reached our destination. Just a mile shy of the village of Utica sits Ye Olde Mill, the headquarters for Velvet Ice Cream. Four generations of the Dager family have been overseeing the company since it was founded over a century ago in 1914.
The day of our visit coincided with National Ice Cream Day and Velvet was pulling out all the stops for a day of celebration. The visitors center and surrounding 20 acres were teeming with families in search of creamy treats. A buy-one-get-one single scoop offer was in effect to sweeten the deal. Unfortunately, an unhappy event marred our stay.
Activities being offered included $5-horse & carriage rides. We’d just reached the back of the very long line for ice cream which flowed out the door and past the large water wheel. The carriage was stationed nearby and had a young family inside waiting to depart. Michele immediately noticed there was something wrong with one of the two horses hitched to the carriage. It appeared unsteady on its feet and was stumbling in place. The older couple handling the horses had begun to unhitch the horse from the carriage, but before the action could be completed, the horse stumbled further and then fell over. As the horse staggered to its feet, it knocked the woman handler to the ground. A bystander helped pull her to safety, but when she tried to stand and put weight on her leg, she cried out in pain and almost fell again.
It was all emotionally upsetting. It was a hot and humid day and we couldn’t help but wonder if the horses were suffering from overexertion. We didn’t want to witness any further suffering of the horse or handler, so we left. Before we were out of the parking lot, an emergency squad had arrived. I later found a post on Velvet’s Facebook page where a visitor wrote, “Praying for the owner and the horse today. I am hoping both of them are ok after witnessing today’s horrific incident while we were there.” A second post asked, “Do you have an update? Are they both ok?” but no updates were forthcoming.
Just north of Velvet Ice Cream, on the opposite side of the road, resides the Licking County Bicentennial Barn. Its wooden sides could use a fresh coat of white paint, but otherwise, the logo remains quite evident. The main section of the metal roof gable barn dates to about 1900. A couple of additions were made in the 1940s. It’s a widely seen landmark, especially each Memorial Day weekend when Ye Olde Mill hosts the annual Utica Sertoma Ice Cream Festival that draws about 50,000 people.
We didn’t want to be denied our own sampling of the local company’s ice cream, so we drove on into Utica to the Watts Family Restaurant. Watts beats out Velvet for longevity by two years, having been established in 1912. Multiple generations of Watts ran it for over a century before selling it to out-of-family restauranteurs in 2015. We split an appetizer sampler plate with chicken wings, onion rings, deep fried mushrooms, and mozzarella sticks, before ordering two sundaes -- caramel for me and butterscotch for Michele – made with Velvet vanilla ice cream. We were fortunate, arriving just prior to the restaurant’s closing at 3 pm.
Just four miles northwest of Utica sits the unincorporated community of Homer. The town was laid out in 1816 and was named for the ancient Greek poet. The local library was closed for the day, but in its front yard sits an interesting historical marker dedicated to Victoria Claflin-Woodhull-Martin. Born in Homer in 1838, Victoria holds the distinction of being the first woman candidate for President of the United States when she was nominated by the “Equal Rights” party in 1872. The marker goes on to explain, “Her life was a continual campaign to fight for woman’s suffrage, civil rights, and child labor reform laws.”
With that little nugget of history rolling around in my head, we drove south to U.S. Route 62 and followed it southwest through Johnstown and beyond to the county line. Our last images of the county were pastoral and bucolic, but that may change in the very near future as Intel, the computer chip manufacturer, is set to begin construction on a new factory spread out over at least 1,000 acres in Jersey Township. Currently, the township is home to about 2,500 residents. The new development is expected to employ about 3,000 people. Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes!
Time spent in the county: 54 hours, 41 minutes
Miles driven in the county: 178
