History of horse transportation in Butler County economy & social system
Compiled by Jim Blount
"One of Butler County's thriving trades of another day," noted a 1937 newspaper report, "is fast on the wane." The blacksmith, "once to be found in every hamlet and village of the county," the Journal-News said, "has come to represent the passing of the horse-drawn carriage in his scarcity."
"The sound of a sledge hammer on white-hot iron, the pungent odor of the smithy and the rising and falling sigh of its bellows, all dear to the childhood hearts of many residents of Hamilton and Butler County," the reporter recalled, "have passed on to make room for the more or less unromantic clangor and clamor of the auto repair shop."
The article was an indication of the fading horse industry and the extinction of associated businesses and jobs. At the turn of the century, horse-related services had been urgent to the local economy and the mobility of Hamiltonians.
The 1937 report said "the blacksmith still exists after a fashion, represented in Butler County by a handful of men who carry the honor of their trade as highly as did their more numerous predecessors two decades ago."
The demise of the village or neighborhood iron craftsman meant more than the loss of a once necessary service. It also was the end of a beloved social institution. The shop was a favorite gathering place for men. They talked and smoked while horses were shod, a plow blade or tool mended, or a new piece crafted for a fireplace or wagon.
"Today, the smith is a circuit rider, setting up shop one or two days a week in this community and that, traveling from one township to another to serve the diminished demands of his patrons," the article said.
"Only a faint touch of the cheerful warmth and sociable atmosphere of those former smithies pervades the present 'fly-by-night' shop: A smithy has to 'bide a while' before it takes on these likable qualities, and draws the strings of mirth and sociability.
"Today, the blacksmith does not make his own horseshoes," the reporter observed, "but buys them ready-made with great convenience and economy. Shaping the iron into a shoe was the most picturesque process of the smithy of the old days. The sparks flew, the hammer rose and fell in a symphony of bell-like sound, the water bucket hissed and fumed as the finished piece dropped into it to cool," the writer said in 1937.
An 1882 county history had noted the reduced role of local blacksmiths. "Many of the articles which we now buy ready made were then beat out on the anvil," said the 1882 publication. "Nails were among these; the point to a plowshare, the remainder being wood; bolts and bars, knives, sickles and axes were wrought out by his labors. He was an indispensable man."
In addition to horseshoes, the early blacksmith forged and shaped a variety of iron products. His output ranged from nails, hinges and tools to pots, pans and chains. His tools were a charcoal-fired hearth, bellows, tongs, pincers, anvils and hammers.
Some pioneer customers bartered -- swapping slabs of bacon, cords of wood or credit on merchandise -- for the smithy's services and products.
Sixteen horse shoe shops served Hamilton in 1900
In 1900, what did Hamilton's 16 coal dealers, three breweries, four maltsters and numerous doctors, peddlers, dairies, embalmers and undertakers, ice dealers, factories and other businesses and professionals have in common?
They all relied on horses and mules for transportation and, in some cases, power. So did hundreds of farm families in surrounding Butler County.
In 1900, according to Williams' city directory, there were at least 16 Hamilton businesses offering blacksmith and horse shoeing service.
The same source listed 144 males who reported their occupation as either blacksmith or horse shoer. Most were members of Local 75 of the Horse Shoers Union, which met the second and fourth Wednesdays of each month in a building at the southeast corner of South Second and Court streets (now a bank parking lot).
Hamilton was a city of 23,914 people, according to the 1900 census. That meant there was one blacksmith or horse shoer for every 166 citizens, regardless of age.
City boundaries were the Miami-Erie Canal (present Erie Highway, or Ohio 4) on the east, Grand Boulevard and Knightsbridge Drive (then South Avenue) on the south, Miami Street and Greenwood Cemetery on the northeast, Black Street on the north, Rhea Avenue on the northwest, Lawn Avenue on the west, and Millikin Street on the southwest.
Considering those limits, most residents of the city resided within two to three blocks of a shop owned by a man who was either a blacksmith or horse shoer.
Four shops were along High Street, starting with G. W. Hunter, who maintained a horse shoe business at the southwest corner of High and the bridge. Daniel Tyson, at 10 High Street, in addition to blacksmithing, also listed his business as "carriage and wagon maker and general repair shop." Two blacksmiths were on the same side of the block between Third and Fourth streets -- William Herold at 321 High Street, and George J. Janser at 329 High Street.
Residents south of High Street had five choices. John Hanly, a horse shoer, was at 317 Court Street; Alex Burridge, a blacksmith, worked at 206 South Avenue (Knightsbridge Drive); and the blacksmith shop of John C. Jacobs was at the northwest corner of South Front and Stephan streets.
The Lotz & Haid blacksmith shop at the southeast corner of Third and Charles streets, was operated by William Lotz and August Haid. The F. & W. Wick blacksmith shop at 518 Canal Street (now Maple Avenue) was owned by Fred Wick and William Wick. In the city directory, the Wicks listed their business as "general blacksmithing and horse shoeing; also wagon makers, repairing."
North of High Street were four shoers and smithies. Frank M. Truax and Amos M. Truax, the latter a resident of Oxford, ran the Truax & Son shoe business at 20 North Second Street. Around the corner, on the north side of Market Street between Front and Second, John Moore advertised as a "practical horse shoer; road horses and track horses a specialty."
At 228 Market Street, John Schweizer, in addition to blacksmith services, also manufactured and repaired carriages, buggies and wagons.
Completing the 1900 directory listing were four blacksmith businesses located west of the Great Miami River, including two each on Main Street and B Street.
George J. Krucker's shop was at the northwest corner of Main and C streets, while Amos Farnsworth operated at the northeast corner of Main Street and Eaton Avenue.
Louis Heiland's business was at 14 South B Street, in the first block south of Main Street. Daniel Smith owned a shop at 212 North B Street.
The 16 shops were just part of the equine industry so important to Hamilton's economy and social life at the turn of the century.
Not all pleasant in horse era; city’s blacksmiths demanded more money in June 1907
"Shaping the iron into a shoe was the most picturesque process of the smithy of the old days. The sparks flew, the hammer rose and fell in a symphony of bell-like sound, the water bucket hissed and fumed as the finished piece dropped into it to cool," recalled a local writer in 1937 in reporting the disappearance of local blacksmiths and neighborhood shops. That romantic description may be an accurate depiction of the blacksmith's most familiar task, producing shoes for horses.
But there also were unpleasant aspects of the vital horse industry once so central to the local economy. The good old days of the horse-and-buggy era weren't always good -- even in Hamilton blacksmith shops.
In June 1907, for example, a strike closed the local horse shoeing establishments.
In the city's blacksmith shops -- as in other crafts -- there were usually two levels of employment under the foreman or proprietor.
At the entry level was the apprentice, a worker learning the trade under the direction of a master blacksmith. A step higher was the journeyman, an employee who had passed tests to prove his smithing skills, often after a pre-determined time as an apprentice.
How and when an apprentice advanced to journeyman was specified in union agreements, which also covered wage levels.
Requests for a pay raise and a half-day reduction in the six-day work week prompted the short-lived 1907 strike by journeymen in Hamilton shops.
"We now pay the men $18 and $21 apiece for 53 hours work a week," a shop boss told a reporter as the strike began. "There isn't a blacksmith in town who has made any money for the last six months," he explained. "In that time, horse shoes have gone up $1.05 and nails and everything else has advanced.
"The Standard Oil Co. controls the trade," the owner lamented, "and when I asked one of their agents the other day how much higher prices were going, he looked at me, laughed significantly and answered, 'Shut your eyes and see.' "
After a one-day stalemate, owners and journeymen horse shoers agreed to a 50 cents per day pay increase with no change in the work schedule. Under the new scale, floormen earned $3 a day instead of $2.50, and firemen were paid $3.50 daily instead of $3.
The agreement also meant higher prices for their Hamilton customers. Four horse shoes cost $2 instead of $1.50, a 33 percent increase. The cost of having the four shoes toed and set jumped from a dollar to $1.50, a 50 percent hike.
Other services escalated at comparable rates, including $2.50 instead of $2 for shoes for horses pulling fire department vehicles and the police department's patrol wagon.
The city government owned several horses. They required personnel and tax money to manage their daily use and care. Periodically, the city's animals were replaced.
Under the normal replacement procedure, a Hamilton funeral director, in need of a horse, had purchased one from the city. The animal, slowed by age, had been declared surplus by the city, but its deliberate gate was appropriate for funeral duty.
According to undocumented reports, one day -- while solemnly pulling a hearse to Greenwood Cemetery -- the horse's experience betrayed its new owner.
As the procession approached a Hamilton firehouse, an alarm sounded and soon a horse-drawn pumper raced out of the station.
True to its training, the newly-acquired funeral horse broke into a gallop in a futile attempt to join the younger fire department horses.
As the aged, but eager horse dashed away from the line of buggies carrying mourners, according to the legend, the coffin slid out of the hearse and smashed on the street.
Livery stable was the hub during Hamilton’s horse era
"The livery stable served as the hub of this horse-powered universe," said Thomas J. Schlereth, a historian of the Victorian period. "There drummers [salesmen] rented horses and carriages to haul sample cases into the hinterland. Fancy buggies and sleighs could be booked for picnics, fairs and elopements. The funeral parlor's hearse, the doctor's rig, the town water cart, and hotel hacks were usually stored there," wrote Schlereth in his book, Victorian America, Transformations in Everyday Life, 1876-1915.
He is describing Hamilton at the turn of the century, a city of 23,914 people served by a dozen livery stables, according to Williams' 1900 city directory.
Ten livery businesses were located within an area stretching five blocks east of the river and less than two blocks on each side of High Street. Several were on or adjacent to Market Street, which formerly had been called Stable Street, a name descriptive of the establishments that once dominated its course.
Most of Hamilton's 1900 livery stables were more than a place to store your horse and buggy, or rent a horse or vehicle. An example was the Flenner & Griesmer Stable at the northwest corner of Market and Second streets, now the site of the Central YMCA.
Sol Flenner and the Griesmer brothers were proprietors in the business, better known as the Grey Eagle Livery Stable. Immediately around the corner from the stable, at 105 North Second Street (also on the future YMCA site), was a funeral parlor owned by the brothers, Charles E. Griesmer and John I. Griesmer. A horse rented for a wedding one day could be pulling a hearse the next day.
Nearby, at 26 North Second Street, was the City Livery Stable Co., owned by T. C. Todhunter, who resided a few blocks away, and W. H. Todhunter, a Middletown resident.
J. L. Burkart, at 135 North Water Street (later Monument Avenue), advertised as a carriage manufacturer; "carriages and buggies, new and second-hand; repairing and painting neatly done; also livery, feed and sale stable."
The J. & J. Everson & Son Livery Stable was at the northeast corner of Market and Front streets (later occupied by Central Motors and now a city parking lot). It was operated by J. J. Everson and C. S. Everson.
Livery services also were offered at the Hamilton Hack & Baggage Co., 23 North Front Street, managed by Thomas Jellison. Until late 1996, that site was the location of the Rialto Theater. (Now it is the location of Lentil Park, a tribute to fictional boy in Robert McCloskey’s book that reflects his Hamilton boyhood.)
The only High Street livery site was at 425 High Street, on the south side between Fourth and Fifth streets (now the site of the High Street underpass). In his directory ad, Thomas Millikin Jr., described his business there as "livery, coach, feed and boarding stable."
Three livery operations were located south of High Street.
The Frank Kerbel livery was on the north side of Court Street, west of Water Street (Monument Avenue). Kerbel and his wife, Maggie, also operated the adjacent Farmers' Hotel and Saloon, at the northwest corner of South Front and Court streets.
Livery services were part of the Bigelow Cab Co. at 122 South Second Street, under the direction of J. C. Bigelow. N. Bonner & Son, 330 Court Street, was Nicholas Bonner and Nicholas J. Bonner, who advertised as "funeral directors, also livery and boarding stable."
The Arcade Livery Co. listed two locations, 329 Court Street and 328 Canal Street (now Maple Avenue), but the addresses were back to back. Its owners, C. W. Flenner and Will R. Beckett, promoted "hacks furnished for funerals and weddings."
Only two livery stables were west of the Great Miami River. Charles Warwick, at 18 South B Street, offered a "livery, feed and sale stable" with "horses boarded at reasonable rates."
Charles C. Schmidtman, at 118-120 Main Street, described his business as a "livery and feed stable" with "special attention paid to drummers." In that era, a drummer was a traveling salesman. The sales agent usually traveled from city to city by railroad and, to complete his local rounds, rented a horse and buggy or wagon from a livery stable."
City horsemen relied on livery stables; few families, businesses owned their own
The dependence on horses at the end of the 19th century didn't mean every Hamiltonian owned a steed. Most city families couldn't afford a horse, or lacked the necessary space.
Only the most affluent families could bear the expense of stocking straw, hay, grain and other essentials, in addition to hiring people to provide daily horse care and drive and maintain carriages. A stable or carriage house behind the residence also was required.
Maintaining and stabling horses at an office or factory consumed expensive urban real estate, and required a stable hand to feed, groom and cleanup after the animal.
Instead, most prosperous citizens in the 1890s relied on local livery stables to shelter and care for their privately-owned equines, and storage for infrequently used buggies, carriages and sleighs.
Livery stables also served another purpose. Horses weren't interchangeable. The trim breed which pulled two or three people in a carriage yielded to stronger, bulkier equines in front of freight wagons.
When the affluent family required a work horse instead of its sleek carriage horse, it rented the creature from the livery stable. Likewise, when a brewery needed horses for show instead of strength, it went to the livery stable.
Unfortunately, the best glimpse of the livery business in Hamilton is in news reports of fires, always a threat when combustible materials, oil-fueled lamps and smokers are present.
May 10, 1903, a blaze swept through the Shollenbarger Brothers' stable at 330-332 Court Street. Albert Y. Shollenbarger and Harry W. Shollenbarger -- both born and raised on a farm near Collinsville -- had formed the livery partnership June 1, 1899.
The 1903 disaster killed 48 horses, destroyed about 75 carriages and wiped out their equipment and inventories of feed and other merchandise. Although uninsured, they reopened five days later at 122 South Second Street.
July 20, 1911, the Ross & Co. Livery Barn burned, possibly the work of an arsonist. Seventeen horses perished, five wagons, 45 buggies and a hundred sets of harness and blankets were destroyed when flames leveled the stable on the east side of Front Street between Dayton and Buckeye streets.
Only five of the horses lost had been owned by Ollie Ross, a proprietor of the firm. According to a newspaper, among the remaining 12, four were owned by businesses (Singer Sewing Machine Co.; John L. Walker Co.; Creighton & Hooven; and the Hamilton Supply Co.) and seven by individuals (John S. Kriegenhofer, C. Z. Mikesell, Nellie Shroder, Newton Hagan, John Wood, Henry Lego and Mrs. Roy Latimer).
Saved from the fire -- which started in a pile of straw -- were horses owned by Judge Warren Gard, Judge Edgar A. Belden, Dr. George C. Skinner, Miss Cora Frechtling, Mrs. John L. Walker, S. M. Goodman and O. M. Bake, and five belonging to the W. C. Frechtling Grocery Co.
The loss -- including building and contents -- was estimated at $30,000. That total didn't include $3,000 to $3,500 damage to the adjacent Immanuel Lutheran Church and damage to other surrounding structures.
The Ross fire was one of six that struck Hamilton liveries and private stables within a 24-hour period. The other five -- most of which involved only moderate damage -- were at the stables of Ed Bruck, Schmidt Brothers, the Park Exchange and William O. Schlosser, and the stable of an unidentified owner at 128 Wilson Street.
The Ross fire, the Journal observed, "brings to mind the fact that Front Street north from High to the street's terminal has experienced more fires since the city was laid out than any thoroughfare in the city." Most of those blazes had been in livery stables.
Hitching posts and watering troughs essential in city in 1900
Horses were the key to Hamilton's economy in 1900, a year when only 13,824 automobiles were registered in the entire United States. Evidence of the four-legged animals was everywhere in the city of 23,914 inhabitants.
Stores, shops, saloons, churches and some residences had hitching posts or hitching rails and carriage blocks, also called mounting blocks.
Several institutions and businesses -- including most of the city's 118 saloons and 25 churches and one synagogue -- had water troughs for thirsty horses. Drivers and riders also could secure water for their horses from the town pump at the courthouse.
At least 75 businesses provided services or products related to the equine economy, including the previously mentioned 16 blacksmith or horse shoe shops and 12 livery stables within the city in 1900.
There also were 11 feed stores, seven saddle and harness shops, nine businesses manufacturing and selling carriages, five building wagons, nine freight or express companies, two hub and spoke factories, and one carriage painting firm.
The reliance on horses also meant jobs for many Hamiltonians.
In the 1900-1901 city directory, 136 people listed their occupation as blacksmith and eight as horse shoers. There were 153 people reported as drivers, hackmen or coachmen, and 64 as teamsters or draymen, a total of 220 who earned a living guiding horse-drawn vehicles.
Nineteen people were either horse dealers, horse trainers or stable employees. Eleven made harnesses or saddles.
A total of 72 were employed in some phase of carriage building and eight said they were wagon makers. In addition, 14 people were listed as involved in the production of springs, spokes and wheels.
The directory listed veterinary surgeons, Lorenzo Hancock, William H. Harper and J. P. Wilson -- a small number for a city that had well over 1,000 horses.
In addition to the 488 people listed above, there undoubtedly were dozens of other Hamiltonians holding horse-industry jobs. They include those who merely reported their employment to the directory publisher as carpenter, wood worker, painter, polisher, varnisher, draftsman, clerk, laborer, helper and watchman.
In 1900, Hamilton had four firehouses. Two or three horses were required to pull each pumper or ladder truck. Because of frequent falls or accidents, the department owned some extra horses, or secured them from livery stables, to replace those injured or crippled when answering alarms. Older fire horses, if healthy, were sold. Disabled animals were destroyed. The police department also had at least one horse-drawn wagon.
Doctors, lawyers and proprietors and employees of other businesses periodically required horses, usually relying on the services of the city's dozen livery stables.
"Most people walked to work or used public transit (streetcar and interurban lines). Generally, city people didn't ride horseback to their jobs," said Frederick Lewis Allen in The Big Change, a book focusing on changes during the 1900-1950 period.
"Nobody rode horseback to the office," Allen wrote. "Who would want to arrive smelly in an age that feared the 'great unwashed'?" He added that "owners could not park horses in the street, because they might run away, be stolen, or kick passers-by."
On the negative side, by 1900 Americans were concerned about horse pollution. "Each horse within a city daily dropped between 10 and 20 pounds of manure, mostly on city streets," Allen noted. "Frequent urination added to the mess and stench."
Horses were part of everyday life in early decades in Butler County
Horses were part of everyday life in Butler County’s early decades. They provided power for farming and transportation for all residents.
Horses played a role in the two to three-week hog drives that were part of early Butler County agriculture.
Area hog raisers prospered because of their proximity to Cincinnati. By the mid 1820s, Cincinnati was known as "Porkopolis" because of the city's expanding pork-packing business.
In 1840, there were 2.44 pigs for each of Butler County's 28,207 residents. That year Butler County boasted Ohio's largest swine population with 68,828, followed by bordering Warren County with 56,847 head.
Pork was packed in Cincinnati, Hamilton and other towns during the winter months and shipped down river while colder weather helped preserve the product.
Hog drives from Butler County, especially the western part, were annual events by 1810. Several roads in western Butler County began as hog trails, most leading to a natural crossing of the Great Miami River at Dick's Ford. The spot near present Wade Mill Road, south of Ross, also was known as Dick's Mill. After crossing the Great Miami, drovers guided their charges up twisting Colerain Pike to slaughterhouses in Cincinnati.
Herds traveled about five to seven miles a day, depending on the weather and the terrain.
Several farmers teamed on a drive. Most drovers walked, some rode horseback to better control stray animals and a few drove horse-drawn wagons, hauling supplies and often transporting stubborn hogs that refused to move or keep pace along the trail.
By 1830, the trip was shortened for many Ohio farmers who were able to send pigs to market via the Miami & Erie Canal from Hamilton and Middletown. In the 1850s, new railroads began hauling hogs.
Horses also were vital during the stagecoach era that peaked in Ohio from 1815 -- at the end of the War of 1812 when primitive road-building accelerated -- until the mid 1850s, when railroad building started.
As early as 1805 a stage line ran from Cincinnati to Dayton via Hamilton, Franklin and Dayton. By the late 1820s, there were as many as 20 stages making daily trips between Cincinnati and Dayton by various routes through Butler County. Monroe, as the mid point on one route, became a major overnight stop.
According to an 1825 schedule, it took a stagecoach 14 hours for the trips between Hamilton and Cincinnati, and between Hamilton and Dayton. That year the Cincinnati and Dayton Mail Line -- that made an overnight stop in Hamilton each way -- completed one round trip a week.
As roads in the area improved, travel times shrank. For example, in the early 1840s the Eastern Stage Coach Company advertised nine hours for its 40-mile runs between Richmond, Indiana, and Hamilton. That would be an average of less than four and a half miles per hour.
In 1847 there were at least three daily coaches between Hamilton and Cincinnati. In their heyday, stagecoaches linked several Butler County communities.
Butler County horses in 1800s exhibited ‘enduring qualities’
"For their general good qualities they [Butler County horses] are not surpassed by those of any other county in the state," said John M. Millikin, author of the agriculture section of the 1882 Butler County history. "In size, symmetry, fine style, etc.; in adaptation to the wants and tastes of our people, who take a pride in having fine horses -- they are deserving of high commendation. Good judgment and fine taste have secured to us our present stock of horses, which is the result of judicious and long-continued crossings with the best thoroughbred horses to be found among us," Millikin wrote.
In 1882, there were about 4,000 farms in Butler County, most ranging from 40 to 320 acres, according to the History and Biographical Cyclopaedia of Butler County, Ohio, Illustrated, published by the Western Biographical Publishing Co., Cincinnati.
Millikin said "the number of horses in this county for the last 35 years has undergone but a very slight change." A chart showed 7,846 horses in the county in 1836, the first year listed, and a gradual yearly increase to 10,690 in 1846, and more than 10,000 through 1851. The census dipped to 8,465 in 1852, then ranged from a low of 10,470 in 1874 to a high of 12,551 in 1860. The total was 11,300 in 1881, the last year reported.
While the horse population was stable in the that period, Millikin said "their average price, however, has undergone very decided fluctuations. The average value of horses, as returned for taxation in 1847 was $38.04. The average value in 1866 was $83.39, an increase of about 109 percent, a decided change in 20 years."
"The decrease in the value of horses as returned in 1862 was violent and excessive," Millikin said, "resulting from the apprehensions of all classes that the effects of the rebellion [Civil War] would be to destroy the value of all our property. The mistaken views of all were soon made apparent, and the result is that in 1866 the value of horses per head had increased in four years from $51.04 to $83.39, being an increase of 63 per cent."
He said "the average value for 1865 and 1866 of the horses of Butler County was $83.50 per head. That is a higher average than was attained in those years by any county in the state, save the county of Hamilton."
Millikin said the facts sustain "the assertion that we very confidently made, that in the blood, size, fine style, symmetry of form, and enduring qualities of the horses of this county, we are not excelled."
Ailing Civil War horses sent to Hamilton camp
In the early years of the Civil War (1861-1865), horses were expendable, succumbing to a combination of misuse, poor care, ignorance and battle hazards. In the final years -- with belated reform and improvements in the north's cavalry service -- the Union army opened a horse rehabilitation camp in Hamilton.
Until 1863, little, if anything, had been done to prolong the useful service of wounded or sick horses. This omission was corrected with creation of the Cavalry Bureau. The convalescent camp in Hamilton -- probably a branch of the Cincinnati quartermaster depot -- was a small part of the new program.
The Hamilton horse camp was along North Third Street, between present Vine and Black streets, in an area later occupied by the factories of the General Machinery Corp. and paper warehouses of Champion International.
In 1861 and 1862, it had been the location of Camp Hamilton, a training center for new soldiers entering the Union army, including hundreds of Butler County men. The camp had been moved from its original location -- the Butler County Fairgrounds -- because the North Third Street site offered a better source of water.
Local histories don't mention the horse camp's existence, but limited descriptions have survived in newspapers. Dates of its opening and closing are uncertain, but at least one report said it operated "for quite a while" after the Civil War ended.
"There were, at the height of the camp's prosperity," one report said, "as many as 1,000 horses housed in it at one time." During the war, its purpose was to restore horses for additional army service -- as mounts for the cavalry or to pull artillery or supply wagons.
When the war ended, the horse camp's task was to "put them [horses] in a condition so that they could be put on the market and sold, as the government had no use for them," a newspaper writer explained.
The stables were "large enough and commodious to run two rows of stalls through each and placed a corn crib on one side in about the middle of the stalls to make it convenient for the animals," the writer said.
"As you entered the camp on Third Street, to the right, the government had a reservoir built that was used to water the horses. The water was piped throughout the entire camp as well as the stables." The complex also included a powerhouse "to pump water into the reservoir, and also to grind feed for the horses and run the cutting boxes to cut straw."
"This plant was eventually, after Uncle Sam got through with it, converted into a distillery, called the Little Giant, and was operated quite a while by George Elliott, and finally abandoned," the writer noted.
A veterinary stable was built at the north end of the camp where horses received care or, if beyond hope, were destroyed and buried. Hides removed from dead horses were sold by the doctors, who retained the revenue, a benefit that would seem to have discouraged rehabilitation.
In the absence of records, the ratio of horses rehabilitated to those destroyed is unknown.
After the camp closed, an entrepreneur operated a bone factory there, grinding the remains and selling the product as fertilizer.
During its operation, the camp also provided some sporting activity for wartime Hamilton. A newspaper said "they had a race track in connection with the camp, which furnished a lot of fun for the neighborhood boys, who were given a chance to exercise convalescent horses on it."
A writer also commented on the expense of operating the horse camp. Uncle Sam, he said, "would have done better if he had given the horses away and perhaps paid the men to whom they were sold for taking them as it was a very expensive camp," he said.
"Besides the cost of the large amount of feed the animals required, the government had quite a bunch of men necessary to take care of the horses -- one man for every 16 animals -- besides the superintendent, who also had a clerk to pay, and the veterinary surgeons," the writer explained.
1885 speed limit 6 mph on unpaved city streets
"Whoever rides or drives any animal or animals upon any street, highway or alley within the city . . . at a rate of speed greater than six miles per hour, or so as to endanger any person" is subject, if convicted, to a fine of no more than $10, up to 20 days in jail or both, according to a Hamilton law in effect Jan. 1, 1885.
Hamiltonians walking along or crossing city streets in 1885 didn't have to worry about dangers posed by automobiles or electric-powered streetcars or interurban trains. Those advances, plus street paving, didn't come until the 1890s or later. Although still the horse-and-buggy era, local protective laws governing city thoroughfares were necessary.
On the Iron Wire Suspension Bridge -- a predecessor to the High-Main Street Bridge -- it was unlawful to (1) drive an animal "faster than an ordinary walk;" (2) obstruct traffic; and (3) pass or attempt to pass another person.
There also were limits on the number of animals that could be on the 1867 bridge "at any one time." The restrictions included no more than 20 cattle or 100 swine or sheep. Those guilty of bridge violations faced a maximum fine of $20, plus the costs of prosecution.
Champion mill relied on horses to reach canal and railroad in 1894
May 4, 1894, J. C. Giffen, the first shipping clerk at the Champion Paper Mill on North B Street in Hamilton, dispatched 10 cases of coated paper, weighing between 500 and 600 pounds each, to the Chatfield and Wood Company in Cincinnati.
Giffen and others lifted the first Champion paper onto a horse-drawn dray, and then patiently drove the load over Hamilton's unpaved streets to the east end of High Street where the order was transferred to a canal boat. Because of the poor condition of the streets, making two round trips of less than five miles through the city in a day was a major accomplishment for the horse teams.
Under ideal conditions, it took at least seven hours to make the trip from Hamilton to Cincinnati on the Miami-Erie Canal, which had a speed limit of four miles an hour. Usually, paper sent by the canal left Hamilton at 6 o'clock in the evening and arrived in Cincinnati by 8 o'clock the next morning.
Most early shipments for other points went by railroad, which required a shorter horse-drawn wagon trip from the mill to a siding on the Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton Railroad at the Niles Tool Works (a site later part of Champion's distribution center) on North Third Street. In the mid 1890s, Hamilton paper destined for Chicago usually reached that city by the second morning after shipment.
Coal and supplies for the Hamilton mill had to be hauled by horse-drawn two-wheeled carts from the same rail siding about half a mile from the mill. Most of the work was entrusted to three teams of horses owned by Jim Hutchison.
Transportation improvements were envisioned before Champion produced its first paper. Conrad Semler (of the Semler flour mill, on North B Street, south of Champion) suggested a belt railroad in 1893, but obstacles delayed incorporation until April 30, 1896. Semler found a valuable ally in Peter G. Thomson, Champion's founder, and both men served on the board of directors of the Hamilton Belt Railway Company.
The railroad was assured success Aug. 3, 1898, when Champion signed a contract guaranteeing to receive and dispatch at least 600 rail car loads a year over the line that looped from the Hamilton-Indianapolis mainline of the Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton Railroad near Millville and Edgewood avenues, across Main Street and along Two Mile Creek to North B Street, then south to the Champion and Semler mills. Belt Line service to Champion started in November 1898. The first inbound train brought coal to the mill.
Soon the Belt Line became Champion's lifeline, delivering raw materials and coal, hauling paper to printers, and later transporting customers via special trains to Hamilton for tours of the mill and promotion of its products. Champion easily fulfilled its promise to handle 600 rail car loads a year.
Champion acquired its first truck when the March 1913 flood shutdown rail lines serving Hamilton. Charley Stephens was the driver and mechanic for the three-ton Packard used to collect mill machinery and paper that had washed down the Great Miami River, and haul damaged equipment for repair between Hamilton and Cincinnati.
John F. Sutherland adept as U. S. army horse trader
John F. Sutherland was a horse trader, an occupation that didn't command much respect because of the presence of some unscrupulous dealers. The Hamilton native was an exception. In local and national transactions, Sutherland built an honorable reputation.
"When I first knew him, no man in Hamilton would think of buying a fine, high-priced horse without first consulting John Sutherland," wrote Dr. Henry Mallory, a contemporary. "His love of horse is only exceeded by his love of mankind," said the physician of his Civil War comrade.
Sutherland was born in Hamilton in 1820, a son of John and Nancy Ramsey Sutherland. His father, an immigrant from Scotland, is considered Hamilton's first resident merchant. He settled here after serving General Anthony Wayne's army as a packhorseman in the 1790s.
The son, after attending an academy or college in Springfield, returned to his father's 287-acre farm outside Hamilton (in the vicinity of present Millville Avenue and Washington Boulevard).
By the early 1840s, the younger Sutherland was an active horse dealer. His business extended beyond Butler County. In pursuit of his occupation, his obituary said, "many trips were made south as far as New Orleans and east to New York."
In 1861, at the start of the Civil War, he interrupted his business to attempt the formation of a company of cavalry. Other men assumed leadership of the unit, allowing the 41-year-old Sutherland to concentrate on utilizing his horse knowledge.
Through a letter from a friend of his father, Sutherland was introduced to Gen. Winfield Scott, general in chief of the U. S. Army. Scott, learning of the Hamiltonian's equine knowledge and experience, assigned Sutherland to direct the packhorse trains that hauled supplies from Wheeling to Union soldiers in the mountains of western Virginia. It was similar to the duty his father had performed about 65 years earlier at Fort Hamilton.
Soon his full attention was on acquiring horses suitable for army service. The quartermaster department awarded Sutherland several large contracts.
"One of these contracts was to supply 12 cavalry regiments with horses. Mr. Sutherland was so careful in his purchase of the stock that not a single horse was rejected by the government," noted the writer of his obituary. Based on about 900 men to a regiment, that contract would have involved more than 10,500 horses at about $130 a head.
Such an accomplishment was unusual. Mismanagement and scandal dominated the Civil War horse procurement system. There are numerous examples of the army receiving shipments of horses that had been unfit when purchased, and abused and neglected during transport to camps and supply depots.
Sutherland's experience in buying and transporting horses led to another war-time venture that backfired. In partnership with several New York investors, Sutherland "established a trade by steamers along the Mississippi."
The two-way trade involved shipping much-needed supplies to the liberated areas of the devastated South in exchange for cotton. The bales of cotton were hauled on steamboats to Cincinnati.
When some shipments reached the Queen City, government agents seized and sold the cotton as Confederate contraband.
For several years after the Civil War, Sutherland spent extended time in Washington, lobbying Congress to compensate him and his associates for the confiscated cotton. He wasn't able to convince enough congressmen and Sutherland and his partners absorbed the loss of several thousand dollars.
He had limited involvement in several businesses after the war, "but never devoted himself to business exclusively," his obit noted. He died in 1899 in Mercy Hospital and is buried in Greenwood Cemetery.
Wilkison Beatty an unusual soldier; managed, cared for regiment’s horses
Wilkison Beatty wasn't an ordinary soldier. Dr. Henry Mallory, Beatty's first commanding officer during the Civil War, considered him "in many respects the most remarkable man who ever lived in Hamilton."
Dr. Mallory also described Beatty (sometimes spelled Beaty) as "physically the best made man I ever saw." He was 6-foot-2 and weighed 225 pounds "without one ounce of surplus fat," said Dr. Mallory. "His courage and bravery were so well known that few ever antagonized him," he added
Beatty's reputation was well established before the start of the Civil War in 1861. "He was a man of means and owned one of the largest and best farms in Butler County," said Dr. Mallory, "and was an extensive stock raiser and pork packer for years." His numerous awards won at the annual Butler County Fair were added evidence of the skill of the Millville farmer.
He enlisted in the 35th Ohio Volunteer Infantry Regiment in the summer of 1861. At age 64, the volunteer was old enough to be the grandfather or great grandfather of many of the volunteers in the regiment known as "The Butler Boys."
Beatty joined the 35th as a private in Company I, commanded by Captain Henry Mallory, a Hamilton physician. Colonel Ferdinand Van Derveer, commander of the 35th, knowing the private's reputation as a horse expert, quickly appointed Beatty wagonmaster of the regiment.
Army regulations said the wagonmaster was responsible for the welfare of the regiment's horses and supervised the teamsters and servants who handled the horses and the wagons. Regulations specified that an infantry regiment have at least six wagons which "must carry nothing but forage for the teams, cooking utensils and rations for the troops, hospital stores and officers' baggage."
Beatty was responsible for 96 horses, or 16 teams of six horses, according to regimental histories.
In an average Union regiment, the useful service of a horse was brief, often just a few weeks, because of abusive use and lack of knowledge in feeding, watering and caring for the animals. The 35th's horses -- thanks to Beatty -- were an exception.
In January 1863, in an attempt to strengthen the Union cavalry, camps were searched for horses that could be transferred to mounted regiments. Beatty reluctantly surrendered his 96 charges to artillery units, which sent their faster horses to the cavalry. In return, the 35th received "scrubby army mules" to pull its wagons.
Members of the regiment noted that when the trade was made, the 96 horses were the same animals that the 35th had acquired when its service began in September 1861.
One reason for their endurance was Beatty's insistence that no one ride the horses, including the regiment's wagonmaster. In more than 17 months of service, the 96 horses -- and Beatty -- had marched hundreds of miles through Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi and Alabama.
Beatty resigned as wagonmaster in December 1863, some believe because of his disappointment in losing his original contingent of 96 horses.
Before returning to Butler County, he operated a hotel in Chattanooga, Tenn. The 69-year-old Millville strongman died Sept. 30, 1866 -- 17 months after the Civil War ended.
Lucky Baldwin established horse racing in California
A Butler County native is regarded as the man who brought thoroughbred racing to California. Elias Jackson Baldwin had earned his nickname, "Lucky," with uncanny success in a variety of businesses and investments before venturing into breeding and racing horses as he approached the age of 50. Within a few years, he was not only one of the nation’s most successful horsemen, but one of the few to realize a profit in the sport.
Baldwin was born April 3, 1828, on a farm in Reily Township, and later resided with his parents on another farm in Ross Township, near Millville, before moving to Indiana. In 1853, gold attracted him to California.
For the next 20-plus years, he built a fortune, thanks to success in mining investments, ranching and farming, land speculation, other businesses and gambling. But his dream was to breed and race horses, and build a first-class race track in California.
Baldwin traced his love of horses to his Midwest boyhood. He recalled as an 18-year-old winning $200 in a bet he placed on his own horse.
In 1875, he bought 8,000 acres in the arid San Gabriel Valley east of Los Angeles. It was the nucleus of his Rancho Santa Anita, part of which became Baldwin’s stud farm and racing stable. For about 30 years, until his death in 1909, Baldwin bred, trained and raced some of the nation’s fastest horses.
Baldwin -- who built his West Coast stable with Kentucky and New York stallions and mares -- was regarded as one of the first breeders to emphasize speed over stamina.
His thoroughbreds won major stakes races under the black and red silks and Maltese cross symbol of Baldwin’s stable. His horses won the American Derby at Washington Park four times. Capturing what was then the most prestigious U. S. race for three-year-olds were Volante in 1885, Silver Cloud in 1886, Emperor of Norfolk in 1888 and Rey el Santa Anita in 1894.
Emperor of Norfolk, considered his finest horse, won 21 of 29 races and earned $72,400.
His California-bred horses competed at eastern tracks much of the year. His racing investment included two railroad cars to transport his horses and their equipment, and stables in Indiana. His horses raced at Chicago’s Washington Park, Saratoga in New York and Churchill Downs in Kentucky. In one season, for example, his entries won 15 of 25 starts at Saratoga.
Baldwin visited his native Butler County several times, some trips associated with his racing interest. An 1895 newspaper report noted his presence here while 28 of his horses were stabled in the Cincinnati area during a race meet at the Latonia track in Northern Kentucky.
The first Santa Anita race track -- Baldwin’s dream for many years -- opened Dec. 7, 1907. "I desire no other monument," Baldwin said at its opening. "This is the greatest thing I’ve done, and I am satisfied." His saddest day followed.
It was the death of Emperor of the North on his ranch, which caused a rare display of grief by Baldwin, then 79. A biographer, C. B. Glasscock, said "the man who made and lost millions, won and broke hearts, defied convention, shown the way for agriculture and real estate development in Southern California, and furnished more newspaper copy . . . than any private citizen of his time, was growing sentimental. It was almost his only sign of age."
Although successful, Santa Anita operated only two seasons, closing April 17, 1909, just over six weeks after Baldwin’s death.
The track was the victim of a national wave of anti-gambling sentiment that eventually banned horse racing in all states except Kentucky and New York. California repealed the racing ban 23 years later and a new Santa Anita Park opened on the site of Baldwin’s estate Dec. 25, 1934.
Santa Anita hasn’t forgotten Baldwin. Visitors to the track will find some of his finest horses buried near the paddock under a Maltese cross, the symbol of his stable. An annual feature race is the Baldwin Stakes, honoring the Butler County native who is considered the father of California thoroughbred racing.
Ritchie Motor Wagon first car in Hamilton in 1899
Some Hamiltonians gawked in disbelief Thursday, Aug. 31, 1899, as the Motor Wagon -- a local product -- cruised the streets of the city at less than six miles an hour. It was reported to be the first automobile to appear in Hamilton. It was built in the plant of the Advance Manufacturing Company. at the southwest corner of North Fifth and Vine streets.
"To a Hamilton firm will be given the distinction of constructing the first automobile made in this section of the country," said the Republican-News in revealing the historical event in its Sept. 2, 1899, edition.
"The carriage -- really a wagon with an engine mounted on it -- came down muddy, unpaved High Street and had to stop three times in one square," said Will H. Howe, who witnessed the event. Howe, a founder and long-time secretary of the Butler County Automobile Club, described the scene in a speech in 1934.
The Motor Wagon, a name painted on the side of the wood frame, was produced by Oscar Ritchie, who had joined his father, William Ritchie, in 1888 in forming the Advance Manufacturing Co.
The company, "wishing to extend its borders and try something new, decided a few months ago to construct an automobile, or a horseless carriage, as commonly called," reported the newspaper. The 1900 city directory said Advance built gasoline engines. Experimenting in car building may have been an attempt to revive the firm, which had been in receivership litigation for two years.
In describing the Ritchie vehicle, the Republican-News offered a primer on how the car worked. "The motive power is furnished by gasoline which is placed in a tank, containing four gallons, beneath the foot boards in front. This amount of gasoline is sufficient to run the automobile about 20 hours," the article said. "The rate of speed has been fixed at six miles an hour by the gearing. This speed, however, has not been attained as yet," the reporter noted.
The Advance Manufacturing Co. -- which survived receivership -- never mass produced the vehicle. The fate of the prototype Motor Wagon is unknown. The 1902 and subsequent city directories listed Advance's business as "builders of gas and gasoline engines."
Horse-related accidents still local concern in 1899
In the fall of 1899, when the first car appeared in Hamilton, it was horse accidents, not auto mishaps, which threatened the lives and limbs of Butler County residents.
A Sept. 1, 1899, newspaper reported an accident involving an East Hamilton woman who "was thrown from a buggy yesterday and severely injured. She was driving east on Canal Street (now Maple Avenue) when at the Canal Street bridge (near present Erie Highway) . . . her horse became frightened and unmanageable. He whirled about and the vehicle upset." The woman was taken to her Harmon Avenue residence and a doctor called. The article said "the buggy was considerably smashed and the horse uninjured."
A few days earlier, a newspaper said a man "who resides on the College Corner Pike left his horse attached to a buggy standing at the West Park rack" in Oxford. "The animal broke loose and dashed up High Street, turning the corner north on College Avenue. The vehicle was hung up on a hitching post in front of the resident of Dr. Alexander and badly damaged. The horse was caught nearby."
The same report from Oxford said "a small lad . . . was kicked by a horse last night and was supposed to have been badly injured. Dr. Cowan was summoned and found that the boy had been kicked on the right side, the prints of the shoe being plainly visible. No ribs were broken and the lad is now on the road to recovery."
A Dec. 20, 1936, article in the Journal-News said "the first automobile death in the county occurred April 13, 1902, when Leo Simon II, riding a bicycle on Third Street in Middletown, was run down and killed."
Hamilton’s first auto owner in dispute
Random newspaper reports don't agree on who owned the first automobile in Hamilton.
A story published in December 1911 said "Oscar Ritchie and Fred Woodruff were the owners of the first car." Woodruff hadn't been mentioned in the Sept. 2, 1899, Republican-News article on the Hamilton-built Motor Wagon.
Regarding the first purchase of a car, the 1911 report said "about two years later, Dr. F. M. Barden and Dr. A. L. Smedley secured automobiles which were run by means of a steam engine." Dr. Barden maintained his practice at 230 High Street and resided at 349 North Third Street. Dr. Smedley's office was at the northwest corner of Third and High streets and he resided at 435 East Avenue.
Will H. Howe, a founder and long-time secretary of the Butler County Automobile Club, also recalled the doctors as the first to own cars in Hamilton.
"Soon after that, Carl Margedant was driving a Ford," Howe said in a 1934 speech. "He wore goggles, hip length leggings and a linen duster and sometimes could go 10 or 15 miles without a puncture" in a tire. "Of course, he had to carry a kit of machine tools with him to repair tires or any other part of the car which needed adjusting."
A brief item in the Hamilton Democrat Jan. 29, 1901, identifies another person as owner of the first car.
"Charles Diefenbach Jr., the jeweler, purchased a large, handsome two-seated automobile carriage this morning from agents now in Hamilton," the article said. "The automobile is the first purchased by a Hamilton party and will be quite an attraction on the streets for a while."
"It cost $1,250 and is propelled by steam generated by gasoline," said the Democrat, which didn't identify the car's name or manufacturer.
Schmitt brothers first auto dealers in Hamilton
"One of first dealers and now the oldest in motor cars in Hamilton was the Schmitt Brothers firm, now the West Side Motor Company," said the Journal-News in its Dec. 20, 1936, anniversary edition. "Their place of business was at 216 Main Street. At that time," the article continued, "the automobile was a rather uncertain means of transportation and a trip of 100 miles was almost unheard of. But as the cars were improved," the report said, "the demand for them increased until by Jan. 1, 1927, there was one car for every four persons in Butler County."
The Schmitt brothers are found in the first mention of automobiles in a Hamilton city directory. The Williams directory for 1904 included the West Side Motor Company under "Repair shops." Also under that category were Walter S. Bullard, 357 Hanover Street, and J. A. Yingling & Sons, 1025 High Street. In the alphabetical section, Charles E. Schmitt and John E. Schmitt were listed as principals in the West Side Motor Company, 216 Main Street, "repairing a specialty."
West Side -- which incorporated Jan. 1, 1906, with the Schmitts and George Sohngen as partners -- was at the 216 Main Street address through the 1912 directory. The 1910 edition also reported its salesrooms on the east side of North C Street between Main Street and Park Avenue.
County officials considered proposal to buy car a joke
Butler County officials weren't serious about considering purchase of a car for the sheriff until 1909, according to a May 7, 1909, report. "About this time last spring, some jovial courthouse attaches, in a joking manner, suggested to the press that Sheriff Brannon should have an automobile to serve subpoenas and attend to his duties," the Journal said.
"The matter was only considered as a joke," the writer noted. The article emphasized that "if Sheriff Graf had a three or four-seated automobile, one that would cost from $550 to $1,250, the county would be saved considerable money in time, it is said. In these busy grand jury days with civil cases and jurymen to be called into court, it requires two horses and buggies to do the work," the report explained.
"While the sheriff is busy, say in Millville serving papers, the deputy is busy at Venice, etc. "The automobile project, while only meant as a joke in its day, has its real meaning now, and should be considered in the near future by the county commissioners," the article said.
"The yearly livery hire is greatly in excess to the cost of a machine [car] suitable to the work that would last for years, and in all the proposition is a good one in a way of saving money for the county."