The Random Columbus Photos 2 edition looks at one of the most infamous building complexes that had ever existed in the city.
Photo Date: Unknown, Pre-1910 Location: The southeastern corner watchtower of the Ohio Penitentiary site. The old Ohio Penitentiary first opened up in 1834. The Civil-War-era building that fronted Spring Street was easily the most iconic. It can be seen in the background of the photo as the lighter building. The Ohio Pen had an interesting, and occasionally disastrous, life. On April 21, 1930, a massive fire broke out that would kill 322 inmates and become the worst prison fire in United State history. Despite the fire, the prison’s population would continue to grow. At its peak in 1955, the prison held over 5,200 inmates- and singlehandedly provided a large population boost to Downtown. The following year, Ohio began transferring inmates to more modern facilities. The move took nearly 30 years. Ohio moved the last inmates in 1984 and then permanently closed the prison. After the closure, the abandoned prison deteriorated quickly. Due to a lack of state maintenance, a portion of the outer wall collapsed onto some cars in 1996, and the city began to aggressively plan a new life for the site. In 1998, despite some protests to save some of the historic buildings, the city demolished the entire complex to make way for the planned Arena District. Today, the only reminder of the prison site is that the eastern edge of McPherson Commons park runs along the same line as the original outer wall.
In my research into finding photos and information on historic buildings in Columbus, I have come across some interesting documents related to why some buildings were demolished and how 1960s preservation efforts were often failtures. Take the Alfred E. Kelley House, which once stood at 282 E. Broad Street. Built over the course of about a year between 1837-1838, the house was a classic Greek Revival. Over the many years of its existence, the house functioned in multiple capacities, including as a school. During those other uses, the architecture was drastically altered, and by 1960, the year the house was proposed to be demolished to build the Christopher Inn, the historic nature had been “severely damaged”. Still, the house had survived 122 years by then, and a history-minded group of people got together to try and save it with the intent of restoration and operating a period museum.
Photo taken in 1898.
The library in the Kelley House, circa 1900.
An elaborately decorated hallway in the Kelley House circa 1900.
The gutted house in 1958.
In early January 1962, the efforts to save the house during the previous year were detailed by one Dixie Sayre Miller, chairman of the Kelley House Committee, which had been formed on March 24th, 1961. The goal of the committee was as follows:
“Considering the time element and the importance of Kelley to the State**, the committee decided to ask the legislature for money for which to move the house intact. We, later, would seek private money with which to restore it.”
The Committee had some powerful allies at the time. State Rep. Chris McNamara and John Vorys, former delegate to the UN, were both in leadership roles. Given this, even during a time when preservation efforts took a clear backseat to development, the Committee did meet with some initial success. The Kelley House legislative subcommittee was able to pass an appropriations bill in July 1961 for the amount of $95,000. The governor vetoed the bill, calling the appropriation “frivolous”. In August, a member of the Committee, Lee Skilken, had the idea to solicit local contractors to volunteer in taking down the house in order for it to be moved. When the idea was presented to the property owners on September 5th, it was rejected because it could not be guaranteed that the property would be clear in time for construction to begin. Instead, the owners wanted a paid contractor to do the work so that the timeline could be met. The land had to be cleared by October 15th, 1961, and the Committee had to have the money to pay the contractor by September 15th.
Here is where the story becomes a bit shady and political. On September 6th, members of the committee went to the Governor for advice on how to proceed. He recommended that they go to the Emergency Board, which would be able to issue a grant towards the project. The Governor promised he would “not object, would not fight it and would not make a political issue of it”. On September 15th, the money deadline, the Committee had raised only $11,000 towards the $35,000 cost of the paid contractor. However, the following day, they caught a break. Another contractor came forward offering to take down the house for just $20,000 and would begin immediately. Further, even though the Committee did not have the full $20,000, the contractor trusted that the Committee would have raised the amount by the time the work was completed. I’m not sure if such deals would ever occur in today’s environment, but they still happened 53 years ago. Only 2 days after the contractor began to take down the house, the Emergency Board awarded a $20,000 grant to the Committee and the house was fully dismantled before the deadline of October 15th. Stonework and foundations of the house were moved to a holding site at Franklin Park, while interior detailing was stored “in a city building”, all waiting for funding to be assembled and restored at a new site. This new site was listed as being in Wolfe Park on “East Broad at Nelson Road”.
So, why isn’t the Alfred E. Kelley house at Wolfe Park today? Two things happened after October 15th. First, the Governor lied. On the very day that the Committee was supposed to pay the contractor, they received a call stating that the Governor had deemed the Emergency Board grant unconstitutional and was withholding the money, despite being his recommendation that the Committee seek the grant from it in the first place. This also after a promise that he would not interfere or stand in the way. The Committee considered legal action, but decided a costly court process was not “advisable”.
Without the $20,000, the Committee was only able to pay the contractor $6,000, who then threatened legal action for the full amount. Since the Committee had neglected to be incorporated, each member was personally responsible for a share of what was owed. By December 1961, the Committee had become incorporated and had managed to pay an additional $2,000, but still owed the majority of the contract.
That concluded the events through January 1962. After that time, there are mysteries that remain unknown (at least as far as I can tell). First, what happened to the Committee? Did it end up raising the amount to pay off the contractor or did they end up in court? Why had the Governor decided to prevent the Committee from getting the grant? Did he have a political axe to grind with members of the Committee? Finally, and far more importantly, what happened to the Kelley House? The materials were in storage in early 1962, but the house was never rebuilt. Were they destroyed? Did the contractor take possession of them if the Committee was unable to pay? Are they still sitting in some warehouse somewhere covered in half a century’s worth of dust? We may never know, though I suspect that someone out there has the answers.
An ironic article in 1961.
**Kelley helped save the state from bankruptcy during the Panic of 1837 by offering up his house, possessions and business interests as collateral.
Edit 7/18/2014: I guess research pays off, and now, at least some of the mystery is solved, as contacts through readers led me to part of the answer. As mentioned above, part of the house’s remains, particularly the stone and brick portions, were stored at Franklin Park after the demolition in 1961. Five years later in 1966, these were moved to the Ohio Exposition Center at the Ohio State Fairgrounds. By then, the plans no longer called for putting the house back together and restoring it. Instead, the stone materials were planned to be incorporated into a new Ohio Historical Center in the late 1960s, presumably the one that now sits adjacent to the fairgrounds today. But that plan also fell through for unknown reasons. The stone materials were eventually gifted to the Western Reserve Historic Society in Cleveland. Some of the stone was used in the restoration of the Hale Farm, but much of it now sits tossed around outside in the elements, slowly being worn away. This still leaves many questions unanswered, such as where the interior portions of the house ended up and why none of the material was ever reused in Columbus despite preservation interests eventually securing the funds to do so.
A fireplace at the Hale Farm rebuilt with Kelley House stones.
Kelley House stones in the elements at Hale Farm near Cleveland.
Downtown, more than any other neighborhood, has seen major changes over the years. This edition of Before and After Downtown looks at just a few locations around the neighborhood that have seen massive transformation over the years. Some of these photos come from the Historic Building Database.
Before: The Central German School at 400 S. 4th Street in 1916 After: 2017 The school was originally opened in December, 1863. In 1920, the school began an expansion and opened as an institution for physically challenged children in March, 1922. The building met its demise in December, 1967 to clear the right of way for I-70/I-71. The highway split the northern sections of German Village off from the rest of the neighborhood. Eventually, almost every historic building left to the north of the highway was demolished. One of the few still remaining is the nearby Trinity Lutheran Church at the corner of S. 3rd and E. Fulton Street, which was dedicated on December 20, 1857.
Before: Southern Theater in 1905 After: 2018 The Southern Theater came about out of the ashes of it’s predecessors. Fires had destroyed 5 separate Columbus theaters between 1889 and 1893, and with the sudden absence of major city theaters, the concept of the Southern Theater was born. The theater opened on September 21, 1896 and has changed very little over the years. Today, it is one of the oldest surviving theaters in Ohio. Very few other buildings can be seen in the old photo, but the 1895 building next door on High and Noble also survives.
Before: The Columbus Auditorium at 570 N. Front Street in 1901 After: 2018 Opened on March 17, 1885, the Park Roller Skating Rink was a large, beautiful building across from where Nationwide Arena sits today. Originally for amusement, the rink only lasted a bit over a decade before being bought and remodeled to become the Columbus Auditorium in 1897. It’s large expanse of flat roof doomed the building however. After more than 15″ of snow fell on the city from February 16-18, 1910, the roof simply could not handle the load, and collapsed on the 18th. The building was deemed a total loss and was torn down not long after.
Before: The Ohio State Arsenal building at 139 W. Main Street in 1898 After: 2017 The Ohio State Arsenal building at 139 W. Main Street, seems to have a bit of disagreement as to when it was actually built (1861 vs. 1863), but regardless, it was a Civil War era arsenal that was used for this purpose for well over 100 years. It was put on the National Register of Historic Places in 1974, and became a cultural arts center in 1978, which it remains so to this day.
Not long after the firing on Fort Sumter, South Carolina on April 12, 1861, the act that would begin the Civil War, President Lincoln called on the North to supply tens of thousands of volunteers to fight. Ohio stepped up, and eventually would have nearly 320,000 soldiers, the 3rd highest total in the North. However, it would have the highest % of enlisted men of any state in the North. And of course, the state would supply some of the war’s most famous generals, including Grant, Sherman, Sheridan and the infamous George Armstrong Custer, who would die along with all of his men at the Battle of Little Big Horn in 1876.
After Lincoln’s call to arms, Camp Jackson was established in Columbus for training and organization of these new recruits. I haven’t been able to find exactly where this was in Columbus, but it proved too small to handle the tasks it was supposed to, so the following month Camp Chase was commissioned, and on June 21, 1861 it was officially dedicated. Named after then Secretary of the Treasury Salman P. Chase, the borders of the camp were W. Broad Street, Westgate Avenue, Hague Avenue and Sullivant Avenue, so it encompassed a fairly large chunk of what would later become the Hilltop and eventually the Westgate neighborhood. Over the next 4 years as the war raged on, over 150,000 Union soldiers came through Camp Chase, but so did 25,000 Confederate prisoners of war, with a peak of 9,423 of them held on the grounds by 1865. Conditions for them, of course, were not particularly great, nor was medical care. Food and clothing rations were too few, and there were so many POWs that overcrowding was a constant problem. Over the years, well over 2,000 of them died from disease, malnutrition, wounds or for attempts at escape. On the southern border near the intersection of Hague and Sullivant, a cemetery was established in 1863 for the detained Confederates who did not survive their imprisonment. By the time Camp Chase closed in July of 1865, 2,260 Confederates had been buried there.
A large rock within the cemetery marking the graves.
Today, the cemetery is all that remains visible of the camp. After the war, the buildings were gradually dismantled until little trace remained of the land’s former use. Still, the site remained largely empty of development until the first decades of the 20th century when the Westgate residential neighborhood was constructed. The only other visible signs besides the cemetery today can be seen by aerial pictures. While Hilltop is a dense, residential area with hardly an empty lot to be found, the land within the former boundaries of the camp contain several school lots containing ball diamonds. When the Westgate neighborhood was built, the schools took advantage of the empty land for this purpose. Besides Westgate Park, which exists just outside of the former boundaries, there are very few other empty parcels of land in Hilltop.
The approximate location of Camp Chase between West Broad Street and Sullivant in Hilltop.
The History Links takes a look back at all sorts of other history for the Columbus area.
In Part 1 I talked a little about the history of passenger rail in Columbus and how no such service has existed within the city since 1977. In Why Columbus doesn’t have rail Part 2, we review the bad luck, bad decisions and just plain confusion that has prevented the otherwise very successful city from going beyond the bus.
Rail was being mentioned to make a comeback as early as the dawn of the 1980s. In 1980, COTA (Central Ohio Transit Authority) was able to convince area residents to pass a 0.5% sales tax to fund a list of ambitious projects, as well as promising free Downtown service. When the money from the sales tax came in, COTA decided to overreach and proposed a controversial plan to use the extra money. Called Transit80+, the plan had transit goals of articulated buses and a Downtown transit mall, as well as a proposal for a North Side light rail system (Why there, I don’t know). The development would be paid for with the $76 million surplus that COTA was running. Ironically, these projects largely died because of funding and support issues. Within a few years, COTA’s financial situation was changing. Federal budget cuts and the expiration of the sales tax in 1984 began to shrink the overall transit budget. Beyond the money, however, the public had reacted overwhelmingly negatively to the 1980 plan. Many felt that COTA needed to improve its already-existing bus service before spending money by jumping into other forms of transit. Consider this was only about 5 years after passenger rail left the city, and many people did not feel like it needed to be brought back.
Union Station demolition in 1977.
In 1987, talk mounted for a monorail system in the Downtown area. The $40 million proposal included a large loop that wound through the Ohio Pen site (Arena District), the Scioto Peninsula, the county office complex on South High and then up to the City Center site (Columbus Commons). A feasibility study was never completed (there was no money for it), and COTA had steadily shrinking money on hand when levies failed in 1986 and 1988. A 0.25% sales tax did pass in 1989, but most of that money was used to rebuild the budget and maintain existing services.
For a few years after that, there was scant mention of rail beyond COTA’s continued long-term goal planning. A 1991 study by COTA only mentioned a light rail system to be put into place by 2020, and it seemed like the city would not see it for decades. However, only a year later, in 1992, rail came up again when the city hosted the international floral show, AmeriFlora ’92 at Franklin and Wolf parks. The show sparked much conversation about Columbus’ future as a city and what was needed to revitalize the urban core, something that City Center and other developments had, up to then, failed to really do. A light rail system was part of that discussion, and by 1993, there was a flurry of news related to this development.
A Columbus version of Grand Central Station was being proposed for Downtown that would connect taxis, cars, buses, light rail and high-speed heavy rail that would link Ohio’s large cities. MORPC (the Mid-Ohio Regional Planning Commission) was deep into looking at potential locations, most of which were near the Ohio Pen site and the new convention center. Future mayor Michael Coleman was quoted in early 1993 saying, “We’re moving into the 21st century, and we need to prepare for that challenge.”
Beyond a city light rail system, suburbs and exurbs were also talking about a train. A proposal for a Columbus to Lancaster train was put forth. This was a proposal in addition to the Rt 33 bypass around Lancaster (which was eventually built) that would relieve growing congestion on the freeway. Also, a 3-C high speed train was being proposed and the idea was to have this system in place by 1995 with a connection at the proposed transit terminal near the convention center. The $3.2 billion high-speed 3-C train would’ve had an average speed of about 110mph with a max speed of 186mph, making the trip between Cincinnati and Cleveland in about 2 1/2 hours, even with stops.
Another proposal brought back the idea of a monorail system, though instead of a Downtown loop, the overhead system would run from just north of 270/Rt 23 to Downtown. The $110 million, 11-mile proposal would’ve been built in a corridor between Olentangy River Road and Cleveland Avenue and be capable of speeds of up to 75mph. The trains would’ve had 30 cars each and carry up to 5,000 people per hour.
Much of these developments (and others) were proposed to be completed by 2001.
The first snag came near the end of December 1993, when Nationwide refused to consider selling 5.3 acres it owned near the convention center that MORPC and COTA were interested in buying for the transit terminal. Nationwide insisted it hadn’t been consulted on the site bordered by High, Front, Nationwide and Spruce and had no interest in selling the property. The following month, the managing director of COTA and one of the biggest proponents of the hub and rail projects, announced he was leaving for Atlanta. The double-blow was bad, but not the end, yet. COTA and MORPC regrouped but still wanted the Nationwide site, which Nationwide still didn’t want to sell. The entire light-rail system’s proposed cost had risen to $522 million. In July 1994, COTA’s 13-member board approved the project moving forward… it only needed a 0.25% sales tax increase, with a vote scheduled for November 1995.
The old Toledo and Ohio Central Railroad Depot in Franklinton.
And then it all fell apart. Federal mass transit subsidies were cut by 12%, capital funding for bus replacement by 60% and state operating assistance by 4% Not only that, but future Ohio governor John Kasich, a Westerville US House representative, put forth a bill with massive mass transit cuts, especially to fixed systems like light rail. Without this money, the system would’ve had to have been entirely locally supported with another $65 million borrowed. The ambitious system suddenly proved too costly and COTA voted to pull the plan from its agenda. Columbus was not alone, as 25 other cities had to kill future or expansion rail plans. One has to wonder if Kasich had seen the momentum for rail in central Ohio and targeted these projects specifically with his national bill. This would not be the final time he would stand in the way of mass transit in Ohio. Ironically, in a poll taken the same week that COTA killed light rail plans, nearly 60% of the public surveyed in Columbus said they would’ve voted to support the November levy that would’ve built it. Instead, without the plans, the November 1995 levy failed. The location of the hub no longer mattered.
Three years later, in 1998, President Clinton signed a $217 billion package that would help fund 191 light rail projects nationally. COTA had no current rail plan and failed to submit any, so therefore was passed up on the funding. Despite this, COTA and MORPC once again prepared to sell the city on light rail, this time in order to pass a levy at the end of 1999. The hub idea was also revived, and the new location was directly across High Street from the convention center, in parking lots along N. Wall Street between Front and High.
Along with the hub, 8 commuter lines and a Downtown loop were proposed. The 8 lines were: -A northbound from Downtown to the Crosswoods area -A northwest line to Dublin along Rt 315 -A northeast line to Easton/Westerville parallel to Cleveland Avenue -An eastbound line to Gahanna and Reynoldsburg -A track along 33 northwest to southeast -A west track along Broad Street -A south track along Rt 3 The plan was once again ambitious, but COTA no longer had a good sales team. A public meeting for the plan in November 1998 only attracted 4 people. The word simply wasn’t getting out.
Leading up to the 1999 sales tax vote to pay for the new system, public reaction was generally positive, but there was still a lack of information available and the public seemed confused as to what would and wouldn’t happen and how it would be paid for. On voting day, the ballot seemed to lack any mention of rail whatsoever, as COTA had been barred from stating the purpose of the tax increase on the ballot. Not only that, but the ballot initiative was split into two parts. Issue 20 was a permanent 0.25% increase on sales tax while Issue 21 was for 10 years at the same rate. While the public was generally supportive of the rail plan, the split and the lack of wording on what the taxes were actually for confused many and they ended up going down to defeat. Columbus’ first (and last) vote on rail had gone down due to confusion and poor management by COTA.
Almost a decade later, Mayor Coleman once again revived the prospect of a rail system in 2007, though this time for streetcars Downtown and perhaps north and south along High Street. The idea was supported by COTA and MORPC, as well as through public polling, but many felt like streetcars really didn’t go far enough with the light rail concept, so many urban and light rail enthusiasts seemed to be underwhelmed by it all. Regardless of the lukewarm response, the proposal seemed to be moving forward. The following year, however, the economy began to crash into the Great Recession, and by 2010, with the election of John Kasich as governor, all mass transit projects at the time pretty much died. The revived 3-C high-speed train was single-handedly killed off by Kasich and it became very clear he would do everything he could to prevent mass transit projects from getting state funding. Cincinnati was able to get a streetcar passed, but almost exclusively from local support. The double whammy of the worst economic times since the Great Depression combined with state leadership that was wholly unfriendly to mass transit effectively shelved the streetcar proposal before it ever went very far.
Today, in early 2013, conditions have changed somewhat. The economy is gradually improving and COTA is running in the black, having the fastest growing ridership in the nation. More importantly, people seem to want to live in the city again, a development that no project like City Center could ever accomplish. Thousands of residential units are under construction or planned for the urban core of Columbus, Downtown is seeing dozens of new restaurants open, along with a new park, concert stage and the Scioto Mile. After 60 years of suburban-driven population growth, the city is making a dramatic and welcome return. But more than that, Columbus continues to grow, with the metro adding over 40,000 people in the past few years alone, and the city adding about half that. A recent article came out suggesting that Columbus now has the worst congestion of Ohio’s cities, and it is steadily getting worse.
These trends bode well for light rail and other forms of mass transit. The next time rail is brought up, it should (finally) move forward barring some major economic meltdown. Of course, given Columbus’ history of following Murphy’s Law when it comes to this subject, an alien invasion seems entirely possible.
