George Condon - West of the Cuyahoga

W est of the Cuyahoga

West
of the
Cuyahoga

George E. Condon

THE KENT STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Kent, Ohio

Frontis: West and East of the Cuyahoga in 1800. Sketches of Western Life by Harvey Rice. Cleveland Public Library Photograph Collection

2006 by The Kent State University Press, Kent, Ohio 44242

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2006000525

ISBN-10: 0-87338-854-2

ISBN-13: 978-0-87338-854-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 09 08 07 06 5 4 3 2 1

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Condon, George E.

West of the Cuyahoga / by George E. Condon.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN-13: 978-0-87338-854-2

ISBN-10: 0-87338-854-2

1. West Side (Cleveland, Ohio)History.

2. Cleveland (Ohio)History.

I. Title.

F499.c66W47 2006 977.1'32dc22 2006000525

British Library Cataloging-in-Publication data are available.

For my beloved wife, Marjorie Philona Condon

Contents

Preface and Acknowledgments

A RCHAEOLOGISTS WILL BE the first to testify that cities, towns, and villages, like their inhabitants, have a life of their own. Settlements have their time on the scene, play out their role, and then, like the humanity that created them, yield to the stresses of life and disappear underground. Thats where the archaeologists find them. So do the historians.

In the opening decade of the nineteenth century, two opposing settlements lay on either side of the Cuyahoga River where it flows into Lake Erie. Cleveland on the east bank grew large and flourishes still. Its upstart competitor, Brooklyn (later the City of Ohio), on the west bank, gave cityhood a respectable run for glory before finally yielding to the benefits of unity and realistically quitting the race to merge with its rival municipality.

By that conclusive time, 1854, the twain had faced each other across the valley for close to a half-century, divided not only by the waters of the river but by political, social, historical, and economic differences as well. After the two became one, the world, always ready to side with a winner, diverted its attention from the west side of the Cuyahoga to the many other livelier happenings of that eventful time in history.

What later generations know as a fact is that while the City of Ohio no longer survives as a political entity, physical traces of what used to be brazenly linger on among its old streets, its pioneer houses, and its storied institutions, all radiating nostalgic reminders that, taken together, constitute history.

The sketchy, tantalizing nature of that remembrance is reason enough for this historical dig on the sunset side of the Cuyahoga Valley, an excavation that uncovers some of the milestones of the past and, perhaps best of all, renews the lives and legends of so many of its historically interesting people who refuse to be forgotten.

A restoration of the past requires the help of many people who sometimes are only dimly aware that they are helping. They are among the ones who help simply by being kind. Foremost among those who belong in that category is my gentle, loving wife, she who patiently endured my muttering and snarling, usually directed at myself, of course, but just as often aimed at the temperamental, contrary computer. She always understood.

Writing this book reminded me of something else I learned a long time ago; namely, that it takes writers a long time to appreciate editors, usually a long lifetime. But true maturity is that state of mind which acknowledges that the creation of a book usually can be traced in large measure to the patience and helpfulness of its editor. In this instance the person is Joanna Hildebrand Craig, editor-in-chief of the Kent State University Press. Her suggestions are reflected on every page. Thanks, too, to Mary Young, editorial assistant. I now beam at all editors wherever I meet them and call them friends.

A lot of knowledgeable people along the way played important advisory roles that lifted my spirit and advanced the book. For example, John Stark Bellamy II, author and friend and an official of the history department of the Fairview Park regional center of the Cuyahoga County Public Library System, who ferreted out scores of helpful book sources and assisted in so many ways. Similarly, Nick Kelly and Ben Burdick of the Lakewood Public Library made this authors life immeasurably easier by making available sources of information I never would have found on my own. As he has so often in the past, my not-to-be-forgotten friend from the Plain Dealer, Emerson Batdorff, provided help at such an important editorial level as to demonstrate spectacularly that retirement, like friendship, can be a very lively, useful condition.

The love of history takes many forms. For example, Raymond L. Pianka is a judge in Cleveland Municipal Court in his daily official capacity, but his judicial robes also cover an expert on Clevelands past, especially that part dealing with the neighborhood called Ohio City. His expertise and unselfish help were invaluable, as were those contributed by such good friends as Dennis Dooley, author and adviser; John Zubal, Ohio City expert and book authority; Ted Sliwa, former city councilman; and Neil McReynolds, unfailing source of helpful information. And I extend special thanks to my daughters, Susan Condon Love and Mary Philona Brereton.

Additionally, I could not have found better friends to brighten the dark corners of book creativity than two cheerful and knowledgeable experts on the staff of the Cleveland State University Library, William Becker and William Barrow. Becker heads the universitys Cleveland Press Library, a treasure house of past Cleveland, and Barrow is entrusted with special library collections as the universitys special collections archivist.

Clevelands history is better for their trusteeship.

Introduction

M APS NEVER REALLY TELL the whole story of any given area. Their single-dimensional lines that ramble about on paper in earnest geometrical effort to present a picture of the reality involved never can convey the sensations and total awareness that await human eyes on the scene itself.

The Cuyahoga River and its deep-sided valley, for example, emerge poorly on any map. It is a small, crooked river whose origin is in Geauga County, some fifteen miles from Lake Erie, from whence it flows southward toward Akron until, confronted by a rising rock obstruction, it does an about-face and reverses its direction of flow, beginning its run northward toward the lake.

Unimpressive as it was, the waterway nevertheless made a deep impression on early visitors to Lake Eries wilderness shores. The Cuyahogas serpentine course and narrow physical limitations did not blind early observers to its special credentials and its great potential. Among the far-sighted ones were Benjamin Franklin, who in 1765 saw the military advantages in the establishment of an army post at the place where the Cuyahoga flows into Lake Erie, and George Washington, who recognized the practicability of a trade-and-travel connection of the Ohio River and the Great Lakes by way of the Cuyahoga and the Muskingum rivers and foresaw the day when a great city would rise on the site.

There was a flurry of government interest when, in 1782, it was rumored that the British were about to build a military installation at the mouth of the Cuyahoga. An army officer, Major Isaac Craig, was hurriedly dispatched to the site, but he found no evidence of British activity there, and the quiet of the wilderness was left undisturbed.