john riley robinson; part 5

Fifth installment of a series about the man who built Oak Hill Cottage
Robinson’s 1892 obituary credits him with having been the manager of the "great line of stages that was run between Fort Smith, Ark., and San Francisco ". In the 1861 diary of his first trip to Batopilas to purchase the silver mine he writes forward to his son Asher “on the overland” to make ready to accompany him if he wished. Asher and another man named Tom Lavin joined the party at Ft. Smith. Lavin may have been a Lexington, Ohio local because prior to departing Mansfield on the trip Robinson writes that he visited “old man and Pat Lavin” at Lexington.

In the 1860 census, Asher Robinson’s occupation is listed as “conductor”. A conductor was the man who rode up with the driver and took care of passengers, baggage, etc. And finally, as further evidence of his work for the “Overland”, in his 1873 diary of a trip from the Batopilas mine in Mexico to New York delivering a shipment of silver, he writes that he “met some of my old drivers on the overland.”

Robinson closed Oak Hill in February, 1861 at the beginning of his venture in the Mexican silver mine. It appears he was staking his diminished, but still considerable resources on the Mexican venture. In his diary before leaving Mansfield he mentions his daughter May, who had been unwell, his son Willshire at Delaware College, and his son Asher on the Overland. The impression is that he’s closing Oak Hill but his wife and family are remaining in the Mansfield vicinity. He sells the furniture from the house to “Hall and Allen” for $445, and consigns “a lot of lamps” to “Edward and James” to sell and apply the proceeds to “payment of an S. & B. bill of $43.00 due from Asher.”

john riley robinson; part 4

Fourth installment of a series about the man who built Oak Hill Cottage

Historian John Mason Hart in his book “The Silver of the Sierra Madre” credits Robinson with being a member of upper management with Wells Fargo & Company, a judge, and a doctor.

The Wells Fargo association was true, but the judge and doctor attributions are questionable. Robinson does not appear to have claimed to be a doctor in the professional sense, even though the 1860 census lists that as his profession. During his first trip to Batopilas, Mexico at the beginning of his silver mine venture, he relates the following; “Attended to the sick Senoras in the lower part of the house, and administered medicine for a sore breast for one, and for a pain in the side and limbs for another. They seem to think every Yankee is a physician. If I am successful in these cases, expect to be called to attend all the afflicted of the town, particularly the female portion.”

The profession of judge seems equally unlikely. During his stopover at Ft. Davis in the diary of his first Batopilas trip he relates the following: “The corral was broken into last night and a driver was seen in the act of placing halters on the mules. The guard shot at 2 Greasers who were tearing down the wall. The driver was tried by Judge Lynch, in whose stead I officiated, and adjudged him to leave on the first stage for San Francisco or be strung up to a cottonwood tree. He chose the former.” The “Judge Lynch” Robinson alludes to was a Western euphemism for a vigilante trial. It is doubtful Robinson was a judge in any other sense than where the absence of established courts brought Judge Lynch to the bench, and the most prominent or respected man present officiated “in his stead”.

But his connection with Wells Fargo is well established. In Noel Loomis’s book, Wells Fargo, he quotes a letter from Robinson in New York in 1860 on Overland Mail letterhead. Robinson outlines his objectives of an upcoming silver mine venture in which he envisions the “introduction of Wells Fargo & Company into Mexico in their express and banking business.” He mentions William Fargo, the Barneys, and himself as the potential purchasers of the mine.

Wells Fargo was established in 1852 to provide express and banking services to California. Wells, Butterfield and Company was part of the American Express. John Butterfield was the line superintendent of this grand combine, from which the joint contractors had been recruited to build the Great Overland Mail Company, of which Butterfield was president. From September 15, 1857 these contractors had exactly one year to create the southern mail route, operating across 3000 miles, 165 stations, and seven deserts to provide twice weekly mail service to California. Wells, Fargo, & Company gained control of the Overland Mail Company in 1860, the same year as Robinson’s letter. The southern mail, the “Oxbow Route”, ceased operation in 1861 with the outbreak of the Civil War.

john riley robinson; part 3

Third installment of a series about the man who built Oak Hill Cottage
In building Oak Hill, Robinson may have revealed a kindred artistic spirit with the younger Sherman brother. John Sherman’s library is archived at the Mansfield Public Library today, and includes A. J. Downing’s “Cottage Residences”, probably the most influential book of its time promoting the Romantic Revival and the Gothic Revival style of architecture that was part of that movement. Sherman’s first home built in the city, like Oak Hill, was a Gothic Revival masterpiece straight out of the pages of Downing and other “taste” books of the day.

Robinson’s Oak Hill Cottage conformed in nearly every detail to Downing’s ideals; construction methods, exterior and interior trim, room layout, kitchen location, dinning room, and servants quarters, and we would expect the furnishings were equally correct in style and quality.
While the hilltop location was not Downing’s idea of the best situation for this style of house, he allowed it as a possible choice. And the existing archaeology, historical photos, and documents indicate the landscape plan conformed as thoroughly to the taste books as the details of the house itself.

No doubt Robinson utilized his new railroad, as the Jones family did in later years, to furnish and decorate the house in an up to date manner that had not previously been possible. But primarily the opening of the railroad was essential to the importation of the lumber that fed Mansfield’s building boom of the next few decades, and to the export of the products of the interior farmlands to the port of Sandusky.

The railroad never managed to make money for its investors. By 1853 it had consolidated with two other lines to become the Sandusky, Mansfield, and Newark Railroad. By 1855 it was reorganized under receivership and bankrupt. Robinson was gone from the business by then. The flour mill had also changed ownership, and Robinson’s estate in the 1860 census was valued at $10,000 and personal property at $1,000. This was a drop of $14,000 from the census of 1850, a change that might be accounted for by the bankruptcy of the railroad.

john riley robinson; part 2

Second installment of a series about the man who built Oak Hill Cottage

The business directory on the 1853 map of the city shows Robinson’s freight forwarding office at the same location as the flour mill.

Ten lots along N. Walnut street in the 1850 tax record are divided between seven to the railroad and three to Robinson & Riley, with the total tax value lumped together at $150,000. This is a staggering sum, considering no other property in the city topped $8000.

The flour mill, on three of these lots, was almost on the end of the line for the railroad, but not quite! A track from Walnut Street curved SE to a warehouse next to where City Mills stands at North Main and 5th Street. The descendants of that track, an old siding, can still be seen there today. This track, in 1850, served the Sherman and Emminger Sash Factory, a joint venture of Jacob Emminger and John Sherman who was still in his 20s at that time.

John Sherman’s wealth early on was associated with the railroad, a fact made clear by a brief mention in his biographical reminiscences; “I had in addition to my practice [law], engaged in a profitable business with Jacob Emminger, a practical mechanic, in the manufacture of doors, blinds and other building materials. We acquired valuable pine-lands in Michigan and transported the lumber to our works at Mansfield” [by the SC&M Railroad].

The depletion of the forests of Maine and the opening up of timber lands for the harvest of the white pine forests in Michigan had brought about a bonanza in land speculation that created more wealth than the California Gold Rush of 1849.

There evidently were strong connections between John Riley Robinson and the Shermans. John Sherman was admitted to the Bar in 1844 at the age of 21, and partnered with his older brother Charles T. Sherman, a prominent lawyer in Mansfield. One of John’s earliest jobs as an attorney was representing the railroad in the acquisition of the right of way from Plymouth to Mansfield. This would have closely associated Sherman with John Robinson, even if there was no other connection. In fact, Robinson named one of his sons Charles Sherman Robinson, indicating there was a close friendship between John and the older Sherman brother. They were equal major shareholders in the railroad and probably had other business dealing together.

john riley robinson

First Installment of a series about the man who built Oak Hill Cottage

John Riley Robinson’s name shows up most prominently in Mansfield’s history as the superintendent of the first railroad into the city. The Sandusky City and Mansfield Railway laid track into Mansfield in the spring of 1846, greatly improving transportation to and from the port city of Sandusky, the principal transshipment center for Mansfield.

Robinson was more than just an employee of the railroad, he was one of the principal investors. The source of his wealth isn’t clear, but he had been in Richland County a number of years. The name Danford N. Barney of New York shows up alongside Robinson’s as a principle investor in the SC&MRR. If that indicates an early association with Barney, the future chairman of the board of Wells Fargo, his wealth may have been tied to higher financial circles far from Mansfield. By the mid-1850s Robinson was associated with Wells Fargo, and he knew the Barneys at least by 1860 if not much earlier.

Robinson married Jane Wilkinson at her parents’ farm at Lexington, Ohio in 1836. In the 1840 census the family lived in Mansfield and had two sons. The 1850 tax map shows Robinson owning lot 91 which is on W. Third Street and part of the library property today.

Census data from 1850 showed Robinson’s estate valued at $25,000. Oak Hill Cottage, which he had built in 1847, was valued at $3200 on the 1850 tax records.

The balance of Robinson’s Mansfield property included the “Robinson & Riley” flour mill that formed part of the railroad terminus complex along Walnut Street. According to Graham’s 1880 Richland County History, the flour mill was built some time after 1820 by Henry Lehman, was the first grist mill in the city, and was water powered. Robinson purchased the property and improved it, according to Graham, and for many years “did the custom work for Mansfield and vicinity. “

The mill pond, fed by Touby’s Run, stretched along near what is now Sixth Street, from about Bowman Street to one block west of Mulberry where a sawmill was located. The mill race exiting the pond then turned northeast about three blocks to Robinson’s mill, then due east to the Rocky Fork where Orange Street crosses.

gothic revival chair

Though Oak Hill Cottage is a Gothic Revival masterpiece of a house, its furniture is mid-Victorian. The original owner, John R. Robinson, sold his furniture for $445 in 1861 and left Oak Hill, according to his journal that begins his Mexican silver mining venture. The Gothic style was on its way out of fashion in the 1860s when Dr. Jones bought the house in 1864 and began to fill it with the latest furniture from New York shops. That fact fairly precludes there being any Gothic Revival furniture in the Jones family collection that furnishes the house today.
But just a couple of weeks ago I was stunned to notice a chair in the library that had to have come from the earlier period. I had never noticed it before, but assumed it was just part of getting to know the house better on my periodic rounds. When I was drafted to fill in with the tour this Sunday, I made mention of the chair to each group, pointing out that it must have come out of the attic from the Robinson era, because it was the only piece of furniture in the house today appropriate to the Gothic Revival architecture.
After the tours I mentioned it to Guild member Marge Graham, and she surprised me by saying the chair had been donated to Oak Hill from the descendants of John R. Robinson out of his estate in Maryland. Not realizing its significance the chair had been stored in the maid's quarters until Marge, who likes it, had set it out while decorating the library for Christmas. I promised Marge I would write the chair into the tour guide script so it has to remain on display from now on.
Its likely that either the chair was original to Oak Hill and kept by Robinson, or that it came from his later home at the Batopolis silver mine in Mexico. Either way, it fits the most comfortably into Oak Hill's architecture of any of the pieces in the house.

fritillaria

This old photograph from the Oak Hill Cottage archives showed such an amazing-looking (to me...not a gardener) lily-type flower that I sent it along to Chuck Gleaves (Kingwood Center Director...his blog is Lifestyle Garden )to identify. He said it is fritillaria or Crown Imperial. Blooms early in the spring. I did some further searching and found it smells like skunk, especially the blooms when disturbed or handled, so made me wonder why these two lovebirds seem so oblivious to its scent.

ghosts at oak hill

I administer the Oak Hill website so I get all the email inquiries; most are requests to spend the night in the cottage hunting for ghosts. I'm not much of a believer, if at all, in the spirit world, and maybe that's why I'm a preservationist, bookman, and sometimes historian. Our connections to the past exist through tangible things. If these tangible things trigger spiritual experiences, so much the better...maybe a feeling of history is a spiritual experience.
Anyway, I've been researching the historical landscape of Oak Hill through old photographs, and I've been finding some that I think of as the real ghosts of Oak Hill. I've found them tucked here and there in boxes. Generally these are photos that were so dirty and faded from years in an attic or basement that the original researchers disregarded them amongst the wealth of better preserved material. But many are gems. These three turned up yesterday.

ghosts around mansfield

Mansfielder's know that this is a crow town. Like some other special towns and cities around the country, Mansfield hosts large flocks of crows about this time of year and into the winter. It seems each fallen leaf is replaced with a crow some mornings where the flock (flocks?) congregate. In the last 20 years or so I've experienced this out Park Avenue West in the 300 block, downtown on the Square, and now living at Oak Hill.
Some say crows are the ghosts of dead Indians. That's a little too weird for me, but I can't help but wonder how ancient these roosting areas are...or sense they are strong connections to the past.
Here's video of the crows this morning and another taken in 2006 downtown on the Square.

maple tree

The old maple tree at the east side of Oak Hill Cottage lost a major branch in the windstorm three weeks ago. It was taken down entirely today. Ironically the Board had recently debated taking the tree down because of an old fissure in the main trunk that made it appear dangerous. The windstorm settled that debate.

oak tree

A 1974 interview with a granddaughter of Dr. Johannes Jones confirmed that Oak Hill was named, as you might suspect, for a giant oak tree that stood close to the west side of the house; too close, resulting in damage to the foundation and wall. The house in fact was built beside the tree which was already a giant, judging from the earliest pictures of Oak Hill Cottage. The above photo from about 1898 shows it as a dead snag, and in a later photo taken 10 to 20 years after, it is a stump, and the west side yard which was dark in earlier photos has become sunny.

zinc countertop

I guess I have a thing for unusual counter-tops. I loved the concrete sink-top at my apartment over the bookshop, but didn't want to go through that casting and polishing process again. I also wanted something appropriate to this 1925 house. While looking into stainless steel I stumbled across the zinc option. Zinc is softer and takes on a natural dark patina. The cost of a 10 foot sheet that would do my two counter sections was about $300, about $1200 less than having stainless counters made, and the material is do-it-yourself friendly. The photo shows the first of the two new counters in place.

first english lutheran

Scaffolding was up and work well under way on the roof of First English Lutheran when it became obvious that the large stone chimneys were being removed and some yet-to-be determined work is ongoing on the stone parapets. The photo above is after the removal of the prominent chimney on the west side of the main roof between the gables. The photo below shows the stonework at the top of the tower, now gleaming white... painted white?...hard to tell from the ground with all the scaffolding.

big move

A few things sidetracked the SquareLog in the past 3 months. In the middle of planning for the Bicentennial Exhibit Trailer, I sold my building and began the big move to 334 Oak Hill Place. The trailer was a success with over 1000 visitors through the entire month of June. Once the dust settled from that, I moved out of the apartment over the bookshop and settled in at Oak Hill.
Now I'm in the middle of moving books, but only my best stuff. I'll continue with internet book sales and occassional appointments, but no more open shop hours. Meanwhile at Oak Hill I've begun watching over Oak Hill Cottage across the street. The house I've moved into is the Anka Vaneff house, a 1925 Sears Roebuck catalog house.
I'll be keeping the SquareLog name even though I'm not living on the Square any more.

bicentennial letters

A lot of credit goes to Paul Lintern for the Bicentennial letters series published daily in the News Journal. This project and several others including the dinner theater at the Bissman Bldg. must be keeping him very busy. The letters are hypothetical communications from people, institutions, or objects in Mansfield's past. Since they are basically fiction in the first place, I don't want to complain about their inaccuracies, but simply warn readers to take the details with a grain of salt. Yesterday's letter dealt with the Indian village of "Greeneville"...make that Greentown. The letter concerning the Dowie riots seriously glossed over the mean-spirited mob actions of the summer of 1900 when Mansfield's intolerance toward a religious group was a disgrace in the national press.
But fortunately the need to gloss things over is not quite as compelling here in Mansfield as it must be in some other communities especially as it relates to slavery and post-Civil War race relations. Mansfield conducted one hanging (Edward Webb in 1878) when executions were conducted locally around the state. That hanging did become a public spectacle when a mob broke down the enclosure, and Mansfield suffered some bad press as a result. It's undeniably a blot on our past, but pales by comparison to the mob lynchings and riots that occurred in communities around the country through the latter half of the 19th and into the 20th Century. I've often wondered how some communities celebrate their past when horrific stories cast a pall over their local history.