By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
The first time I stumbled on a picture of the Elmira School, I thought it was very cool and knew I had to mark it as a location for us to visit. I also worried that we wouldn’t make it there before it gave up the ghost to Midwest winters.
Finally, in 2015 when I was planning a photo trip that would take us through some very southern Iowa locations, and just the very northern section of Missouri, I managed to include it as one of our “on the way” locations. I remember sharing the picture with Joann when I first found the school, but I made it a point to not remind her before the trip so she could be surprised when we pulled up to it.
As we came down the highway, we could see the school sitting there looking forlorn. Joann quickly found a place to park, which was in the driveway of the town cemetery across the road. She got her equipment out of the car and headed across the highway.
From what I can tell, this two-room frame building with a brick foundation replaced an earlier building in 1902. In the beginning, some high school classes were offered, including the subjects of Algebra, English, Latin, Physical Geography, Civil Government, and Ancient History. High school classes were held until about 1915 when the school became only grades 1-8.
Two teachers were employed for the school until 1918 when classes were combined into one room, and one teacher taught all grades. Then, from 1928 until 1940, two teachers were employed again. In 1946, three surrounding school districts combined with Elmira to become the Elmira Community Consolidated Grade School, District 39.
In 1952, the Osceola school district petitioned to join the Elmira district. It was approved and a new school building was also approved to be built at another location. That consolidation and subsequent new school building marked the end of educational life for this building. One source says the school was used for community meetings for a while, but was completely abandoned by the early 1970’s.
As you can see in the photos, most of the boards are missing from the back of one end of the building. The bell is long gone from the bell tower and the vent of the stovepipe is lying on the roof. There are also holes in the roof, which is always the beginning of the end. Since our visit was in 2015, there’s no telling what the building looks like now, if it’s even still standing.
It will probably be years before we’re even near this location again, and I don’t know if we’ll even want to drive past since seeing no trace of a building we’ve enjoyed photographing always makes us sad.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label abandoned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abandoned. Show all posts
Sunday, July 28, 2019
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Haven’t We Seen You Somewhere Before?
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
In the middle of our spring trip to southern Ohio in 2012, we made our way to the historic town of Shawnee.
As is usual for us, we were on the backroads for too long, and it was past lunchtime when we got into town. But, as is also usual, after a local told us they did have a town park and where it was located, we couldn’t stand to drive past anything on our way. We decided we could wait just a little longer to eat, and to photograph our way to the park down one street. And, after lunch, we would come back up the next street photographing our way back.
When we arrived at the park, there was a playground area, with two small children playing, and their mothers nearby at a picnic table with a baby in a stroller.
We drove on past and went to a shelter further down the road. We got our food out of the cooler and headed to a picnic table. We built our sandwiches and fixed a quick side dish and began to eat.
And then we saw the two young ones from the playground equipment heading our way. They came over and said hello, and then climbed up onto the picnic table and started chatting away.
They told us how hungry they were and that they weren’t allowed to go home until their mothers said they could. They kept chatting away, asking us questions, but they kept emphasizing how hungry they were.
Soon, the mothers gathered their things and came over to collect the kids. They said they hoped they weren’t bothering us and we told them they were no trouble, but they were hungry. They laughed, and said they were heading for home.
After they left, we finished our lunch and packed up the car. Then we headed for downtown to see what other historical things we could find.
Down the road from the park, we could see the mothers and children up ahead walking towards home, and Joann couldn’t resist putting the window down and calling out “Haven’t we seen you somewhere before?” They laughed, we laughed, and we each headed on our way.
There was a lot to see in this small town, and you’ll find out more about that in a future blog, but suffice it to say, we still had several hours of photographing in town. When we thought we were finally finished, we started to head out to the highway. But then we noticed an old brick building that we knew we had to capture before we left.
Joann got out and was setting up her equipment, when a van went slowly past on the road we had just left. Someone rolled the window down and shouted, “Haven’t we seen you somewhere before?” and then everyone in the car laughed. Joann started to laugh as well. It was the two ladies from the park with their children.
After wishing each other a good day, they drove on, and Joann finished up her photographing. Finally we hit the highway and were on our way.
I hope someday we end up near Shawnee again. It was an interesting, historic town, and I’m sure we didn’t find everything. Plus, you never know who you’ll meet.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
In the middle of our spring trip to southern Ohio in 2012, we made our way to the historic town of Shawnee.
As is usual for us, we were on the backroads for too long, and it was past lunchtime when we got into town. But, as is also usual, after a local told us they did have a town park and where it was located, we couldn’t stand to drive past anything on our way. We decided we could wait just a little longer to eat, and to photograph our way to the park down one street. And, after lunch, we would come back up the next street photographing our way back.
When we arrived at the park, there was a playground area, with two small children playing, and their mothers nearby at a picnic table with a baby in a stroller.
We drove on past and went to a shelter further down the road. We got our food out of the cooler and headed to a picnic table. We built our sandwiches and fixed a quick side dish and began to eat.
And then we saw the two young ones from the playground equipment heading our way. They came over and said hello, and then climbed up onto the picnic table and started chatting away.
They told us how hungry they were and that they weren’t allowed to go home until their mothers said they could. They kept chatting away, asking us questions, but they kept emphasizing how hungry they were.
Soon, the mothers gathered their things and came over to collect the kids. They said they hoped they weren’t bothering us and we told them they were no trouble, but they were hungry. They laughed, and said they were heading for home.
After they left, we finished our lunch and packed up the car. Then we headed for downtown to see what other historical things we could find.
Down the road from the park, we could see the mothers and children up ahead walking towards home, and Joann couldn’t resist putting the window down and calling out “Haven’t we seen you somewhere before?” They laughed, we laughed, and we each headed on our way.
There was a lot to see in this small town, and you’ll find out more about that in a future blog, but suffice it to say, we still had several hours of photographing in town. When we thought we were finally finished, we started to head out to the highway. But then we noticed an old brick building that we knew we had to capture before we left.
Joann got out and was setting up her equipment, when a van went slowly past on the road we had just left. Someone rolled the window down and shouted, “Haven’t we seen you somewhere before?” and then everyone in the car laughed. Joann started to laugh as well. It was the two ladies from the park with their children.
After wishing each other a good day, they drove on, and Joann finished up her photographing. Finally we hit the highway and were on our way.
I hope someday we end up near Shawnee again. It was an interesting, historic town, and I’m sure we didn’t find everything. Plus, you never know who you’ll meet.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Searching For an Abandoned School
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
A few years ago, I stumbled on a photo of an abandoned school in Jackson County Wisconsin. And for a while, that’s all I knew about it. When you realize just how many roads there are in a single county, you know that’s not much to go on.
But then, I stumbled on another photo, and this one included a road name! So, now I had a little something to go on.
In the fall of 2012, we decided to spend a couple of days photographing in West Central Wisconsin, so in my planning, I decided to try to find this school on the way. We drove up the interstate in the dark, and at dawn, pulled off to photograph an old mill and school we’ve visited before. (It’s usually my plan to make sure we know where our dawn stop actually is. It’s hard to hunt for something in the dark!)
When the sun came up, we got back on the interstate and headed north. As soon as we hit Jackson County, we got off the interstate again. It was time to start hunting for the abandoned school. We drove quite a ways on the road I thought it was supposed to be on, and didn’t find the school. What we did find was some gorgeous fall color.
Our next opportunity to visit Jackson County was the following fall. We didn’t spend much time there, and again, we didn’t find the school. I’m not even sure that I told Joann we were hunting for it, but we did manage to find a different school. We have to take what we can find.
Along the highway, we also found this old sign for a barbershop. We didn’t see the barbershop in town, or an arrow pointing to where it was located, but it was a cute little sign.
Our collection of Jackson County photographs was growing, but we had to go home again without finding the school.
A year later, as I planned another trip to West Central Wisconsin in the hopes of hitting spectacular fall color, I included more pieces of the road in Jackson County. After all, three times is the charm, right?
And it was! We finally found the school. There was no place to park on the road going past the front of the school, so we found a place to turn around. Then we drove back past the school and pulled off on a small side road a little south of the school. Next to the car, at the end of the road, was this small, cute birdhouse.
Joann walked back down the road to the school, and seeing the condition, decided to take as many photos as possible. The roof is sagging in the middle, and most of the shingles are loose or falling off.
The bell tower is still there, even though the bell is long gone. Just looking at this angle, you can’t tell how badly the school is deteriorating.
Behind the school, at the edge of the woods, is an old outhouse in just as bad of shape. The shingles are covered with moss, and the back is beginning to fall in.
As Joann was processing photos for this blog, she asked me if I could figure out the name of the school. I do have a website I can use, but it only works if I know the exact location of a school. But now, armed with the location, I was able to figure out that this was the Holen School.
If we get near the school again, we’ll check to see how it’s doing, but we’ll know that if it falls, or is demolished by the landowner, we did it justice in photographs while we could.
We are so appreciative of those things we find still standing along the backroads. Wisconsin isn’t especially known for its preservation efforts, especially rural buildings, so we take those whenever we can find them. We hope you also appreciate seeing our history here.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
A few years ago, I stumbled on a photo of an abandoned school in Jackson County Wisconsin. And for a while, that’s all I knew about it. When you realize just how many roads there are in a single county, you know that’s not much to go on.
But then, I stumbled on another photo, and this one included a road name! So, now I had a little something to go on.
In the fall of 2012, we decided to spend a couple of days photographing in West Central Wisconsin, so in my planning, I decided to try to find this school on the way. We drove up the interstate in the dark, and at dawn, pulled off to photograph an old mill and school we’ve visited before. (It’s usually my plan to make sure we know where our dawn stop actually is. It’s hard to hunt for something in the dark!)
When the sun came up, we got back on the interstate and headed north. As soon as we hit Jackson County, we got off the interstate again. It was time to start hunting for the abandoned school. We drove quite a ways on the road I thought it was supposed to be on, and didn’t find the school. What we did find was some gorgeous fall color.
Our next opportunity to visit Jackson County was the following fall. We didn’t spend much time there, and again, we didn’t find the school. I’m not even sure that I told Joann we were hunting for it, but we did manage to find a different school. We have to take what we can find.
Along the highway, we also found this old sign for a barbershop. We didn’t see the barbershop in town, or an arrow pointing to where it was located, but it was a cute little sign.
Our collection of Jackson County photographs was growing, but we had to go home again without finding the school.
A year later, as I planned another trip to West Central Wisconsin in the hopes of hitting spectacular fall color, I included more pieces of the road in Jackson County. After all, three times is the charm, right?
And it was! We finally found the school. There was no place to park on the road going past the front of the school, so we found a place to turn around. Then we drove back past the school and pulled off on a small side road a little south of the school. Next to the car, at the end of the road, was this small, cute birdhouse.
Joann walked back down the road to the school, and seeing the condition, decided to take as many photos as possible. The roof is sagging in the middle, and most of the shingles are loose or falling off.
The bell tower is still there, even though the bell is long gone. Just looking at this angle, you can’t tell how badly the school is deteriorating.
Behind the school, at the edge of the woods, is an old outhouse in just as bad of shape. The shingles are covered with moss, and the back is beginning to fall in.
As Joann was processing photos for this blog, she asked me if I could figure out the name of the school. I do have a website I can use, but it only works if I know the exact location of a school. But now, armed with the location, I was able to figure out that this was the Holen School.
If we get near the school again, we’ll check to see how it’s doing, but we’ll know that if it falls, or is demolished by the landowner, we did it justice in photographs while we could.
We are so appreciative of those things we find still standing along the backroads. Wisconsin isn’t especially known for its preservation efforts, especially rural buildings, so we take those whenever we can find them. We hope you also appreciate seeing our history here.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
A Wisconsin Ghost Town
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
I’ve always loved pictures of old ghost towns, which are usually found in the western states. In Wisconsin, many towns were eventually abandoned, often due to the railroad bypassing the town. And, in most cases, none of the buildings exist anymore. So, in 2012, on a visit to northwest Wisconsin, I was really excited when Ruth told me we would be visiting a ghost town.
As Ruth began directing us toward the ghost town, the following conversation took place.
Joann: What’s the name of this ghost town?
Ruth: “I’m alone.”
Joann: “What? You’re alone?”
Ruth: “Imalone. The town is called Imalone.”
There isn’t much information to be found about the unincorporated town of Imalone, other than a 2007 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article written about Heather Aldrich whose grandparents had owned the Wagon Wheel bar in Imalone. The article was about a road trip Heather took with a friend to prove that there really is a town in Wisconsin named Imalone. In the 1970s, Heather had attended summer bible camp in Imalone.
So, where did the name Imalone come from? Legend has it that the town was established by a man named Snowball Anderson, who built a gas station in the area. One day when Snowball left his gas station in the hands of an old-timer named Bill Granger, a salesman who was writing up an invoice asked for the name of the town.
Not knowing there was an official name and having no one else there to ask, Bill said, “I’m alone.” So the salesman wrote Imalone on the invoice and it stuck.
Others say the legend isn’t true and it was actually Snowball Anderson who named it Imalone because he and his gas station were alone there at the time.
It was late in the day and the sun was sinking toward the horizon when we pulled off the county road onto a circular dirt road with the abandoned town in the distance. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I grabbed my equipment and made my way through the tall grass to the first abandoned building I came upon. All that was left of it was a concrete block foundation and a couple of living room chairs.
As I looked through an open window frame of another deteriorating home, I could see the remains of a very old television set, with a shattered picture tube.
Just beyond the abandoned houses were the remains of an old concrete stave silo. So there must have been a farm there at one point.
And an old stone well sat alone and forgotten in the woods behind the collapsing houses.
Imalone’s only other claim to fame was having its name on a 30- by 70-foot billboard about 10 years ago above a 20-story building in Midtown Manhattan. The billboard simply said, “Imalone WI, 934 Miles,” with an arrow pointing to the west.
According to the 2007 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article about Imalone, written by Jim Stingl, the billboard company had a gap between paid ads on that billboard, so they decided to get creative. A sales assistant suggested a mileage sign, so the VP of creative development looked for towns with strange names and decided to use Imalone.
Walking through the remains of what once was a town was both sad and a little spooky. But now I can say that I visited a real Wisconsin ghost town.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
I’ve always loved pictures of old ghost towns, which are usually found in the western states. In Wisconsin, many towns were eventually abandoned, often due to the railroad bypassing the town. And, in most cases, none of the buildings exist anymore. So, in 2012, on a visit to northwest Wisconsin, I was really excited when Ruth told me we would be visiting a ghost town.
As Ruth began directing us toward the ghost town, the following conversation took place.
Joann: What’s the name of this ghost town?
Ruth: “I’m alone.”
Joann: “What? You’re alone?”
Ruth: “Imalone. The town is called Imalone.”
There isn’t much information to be found about the unincorporated town of Imalone, other than a 2007 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article written about Heather Aldrich whose grandparents had owned the Wagon Wheel bar in Imalone. The article was about a road trip Heather took with a friend to prove that there really is a town in Wisconsin named Imalone. In the 1970s, Heather had attended summer bible camp in Imalone.
So, where did the name Imalone come from? Legend has it that the town was established by a man named Snowball Anderson, who built a gas station in the area. One day when Snowball left his gas station in the hands of an old-timer named Bill Granger, a salesman who was writing up an invoice asked for the name of the town.
Not knowing there was an official name and having no one else there to ask, Bill said, “I’m alone.” So the salesman wrote Imalone on the invoice and it stuck.
Others say the legend isn’t true and it was actually Snowball Anderson who named it Imalone because he and his gas station were alone there at the time.
It was late in the day and the sun was sinking toward the horizon when we pulled off the county road onto a circular dirt road with the abandoned town in the distance. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I grabbed my equipment and made my way through the tall grass to the first abandoned building I came upon. All that was left of it was a concrete block foundation and a couple of living room chairs.
As I looked through an open window frame of another deteriorating home, I could see the remains of a very old television set, with a shattered picture tube.
Just beyond the abandoned houses were the remains of an old concrete stave silo. So there must have been a farm there at one point.
And an old stone well sat alone and forgotten in the woods behind the collapsing houses.
Imalone’s only other claim to fame was having its name on a 30- by 70-foot billboard about 10 years ago above a 20-story building in Midtown Manhattan. The billboard simply said, “Imalone WI, 934 Miles,” with an arrow pointing to the west.
According to the 2007 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article about Imalone, written by Jim Stingl, the billboard company had a gap between paid ads on that billboard, so they decided to get creative. A sales assistant suggested a mileage sign, so the VP of creative development looked for towns with strange names and decided to use Imalone.
Walking through the remains of what once was a town was both sad and a little spooky. But now I can say that I visited a real Wisconsin ghost town.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Update: First Estonian Church in America
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Four years ago, at the end of September, Ruth and I made an unforgettable visit to the Estonian Ev. Martin Luther Church in Lincoln County, Wisconsin. In November of that year, I posted a story about this church – the First Estonian Church in America.
Two years later, Bill Rebane, owner and great nephew of the founding pastor of this church, discovered our blog story and sent us an email saying, “Absolutely wonderful photography. With these, there may be new hope for the Estonian Ev. Martin Luther Church. What must we do to use them to promote the restoration? Some devoted Estonians from Chicago have joined in the effort to begin restoration in the coming spring. Would love to communicate with you.”
We responded with this: “Thank you so much for contacting us about using these photos for the purpose of promoting the restoration of your wonderfully historic church. Our main purpose in photographing old structures is to make people aware of the historical value in the hopes that some of them can and will be saved.” We then gave him permission to use the photos in his fund-raising efforts.
A short time later, Mr. Rebane set up a GoFundMe website with a goal of raising $40,000 and he used a couple of our photos on that site. He explained that the most pressing need at that time was for electric service and water for the restoration efforts. It stated: “Our hopes and wishes are relatively small: To restore the structure to its original state and to maintain the cemetery with 11 resting places.”
In June of 2014, a group of Estonians from Chicago volunteered their time to begin the restoration efforts. They stabilized the church foundation and began working on clearing brush from the cemetery to expose the gravestones. And in July of this year, volunteers worked to adjust the frame of the church and install windows and doors. The volunteer weekend ended with a benefit concert on the grounds of the church to raise money for construction materials. It featured two well-known Estonian musicians.
The concert website stated that “the first Estonian church is a monument to early Estonian immigration to America and the liberty and freedom they were seeking.” And the Facebook page for this historic church states that “the Estonian Embassy in Washington D.C. through its cultural attaché has expressed interest in making the church property a cultural information site of Estonian life, history and the arts.”
We are grateful that this historic structure will be saved from the ravages of time and we wish the Estonians good luck in their continued restoration efforts.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Four years ago, at the end of September, Ruth and I made an unforgettable visit to the Estonian Ev. Martin Luther Church in Lincoln County, Wisconsin. In November of that year, I posted a story about this church – the First Estonian Church in America.
Two years later, Bill Rebane, owner and great nephew of the founding pastor of this church, discovered our blog story and sent us an email saying, “Absolutely wonderful photography. With these, there may be new hope for the Estonian Ev. Martin Luther Church. What must we do to use them to promote the restoration? Some devoted Estonians from Chicago have joined in the effort to begin restoration in the coming spring. Would love to communicate with you.”
We responded with this: “Thank you so much for contacting us about using these photos for the purpose of promoting the restoration of your wonderfully historic church. Our main purpose in photographing old structures is to make people aware of the historical value in the hopes that some of them can and will be saved.” We then gave him permission to use the photos in his fund-raising efforts.
A short time later, Mr. Rebane set up a GoFundMe website with a goal of raising $40,000 and he used a couple of our photos on that site. He explained that the most pressing need at that time was for electric service and water for the restoration efforts. It stated: “Our hopes and wishes are relatively small: To restore the structure to its original state and to maintain the cemetery with 11 resting places.”
In June of 2014, a group of Estonians from Chicago volunteered their time to begin the restoration efforts. They stabilized the church foundation and began working on clearing brush from the cemetery to expose the gravestones. And in July of this year, volunteers worked to adjust the frame of the church and install windows and doors. The volunteer weekend ended with a benefit concert on the grounds of the church to raise money for construction materials. It featured two well-known Estonian musicians.
The concert website stated that “the first Estonian church is a monument to early Estonian immigration to America and the liberty and freedom they were seeking.” And the Facebook page for this historic church states that “the Estonian Embassy in Washington D.C. through its cultural attaché has expressed interest in making the church property a cultural information site of Estonian life, history and the arts.”
We are grateful that this historic structure will be saved from the ravages of time and we wish the Estonians good luck in their continued restoration efforts.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Dawn in Indiana
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
In 2011, during the early planning stages of our 2012 spring photography trip, Joann came across a picture of an abandoned school in Indiana. She shared the picture with me and asked if I knew of the school. I checked my research and saw that I had the school marked. I told her we hadn’t yet managed to pass it on the way to or from any of our trip destinations to the east.
She asked if we could manage to fit it into the spring trip we were already planning to Ohio, so I told her I would figure it out. The school tower is still standing, but the roof is gone and many bricks have fallen. We were worried that, if Indiana is anything like Wisconsin, the owner might decide that the land is more valuable than any memories of the school and take it down.
As usual, I had too many stops marked for our route to Ohio, and the route went further south than the school. I told Joann the school wouldn’t work going to Ohio, but I would be sure to plan a stop on the way home. Since the dawn hours are Joann’s favorite for photography, I hunted (and hunted, and hunted) for a motel that would be close enough to the school to make it our dawn stop the next morning.
The only motel I could find that would work for us (a mom and pop motel with outside doors), was a motel that was about 45 minutes west into Indiana, which was past the school location. I asked Joann if she wanted to overshoot the school on the way home and then drive the distance back in the pre-dawn hours. She thought about if for just a second and then said the school was special enough that we should go for it.
So, we checked into the motel in the dark on our first day heading home. We set our alarm for very early, and, in the wee hours of the morning of our last day, we packed the car in the dark and drove the 45 minutes back to the location of the school. When we arrived, as is often the case, it was still just a little too dark to start photographing.
But Joann got out of the car, and as soon as possible, started with silhouette photos of the old school. It was the Oak Grove School, which had been built in 1913.
Joann worked her way around the school, sizing it up from every angle and looking at every detail for photographic possibilities. I watched for a while, and then I leaned my head back and took a short nap.
When she finished at the school, we hurried to our second stop which was even further to the south. After that town, we began our journey home. And it was a long journey. Every time we got close to something cool, I would show Joann a picture and ask if she wanted to chase it that day, or save it for another trip.
Usually her answer was to chase it, so we didn’t get home until well after dark. That was one long day, but knowing we had captured this beautiful school made the day worth it.
As I prepared to write this blog, I searched on the school name, Jay County, Indiana history, and everything else I could think of. I couldn’t find any history about the school.
We have our pictures, but we don’t know anything other than the name and the year it was built. Maybe someday in the future, when I’m searching for something else in Indiana, I’ll stumble on some history. Or maybe, if we’re lucky, someone will comment on this blog or on a photo with memories of the school. We can only hope.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
In 2011, during the early planning stages of our 2012 spring photography trip, Joann came across a picture of an abandoned school in Indiana. She shared the picture with me and asked if I knew of the school. I checked my research and saw that I had the school marked. I told her we hadn’t yet managed to pass it on the way to or from any of our trip destinations to the east.
She asked if we could manage to fit it into the spring trip we were already planning to Ohio, so I told her I would figure it out. The school tower is still standing, but the roof is gone and many bricks have fallen. We were worried that, if Indiana is anything like Wisconsin, the owner might decide that the land is more valuable than any memories of the school and take it down.
As usual, I had too many stops marked for our route to Ohio, and the route went further south than the school. I told Joann the school wouldn’t work going to Ohio, but I would be sure to plan a stop on the way home. Since the dawn hours are Joann’s favorite for photography, I hunted (and hunted, and hunted) for a motel that would be close enough to the school to make it our dawn stop the next morning.
The only motel I could find that would work for us (a mom and pop motel with outside doors), was a motel that was about 45 minutes west into Indiana, which was past the school location. I asked Joann if she wanted to overshoot the school on the way home and then drive the distance back in the pre-dawn hours. She thought about if for just a second and then said the school was special enough that we should go for it.
So, we checked into the motel in the dark on our first day heading home. We set our alarm for very early, and, in the wee hours of the morning of our last day, we packed the car in the dark and drove the 45 minutes back to the location of the school. When we arrived, as is often the case, it was still just a little too dark to start photographing.
But Joann got out of the car, and as soon as possible, started with silhouette photos of the old school. It was the Oak Grove School, which had been built in 1913.
Joann worked her way around the school, sizing it up from every angle and looking at every detail for photographic possibilities. I watched for a while, and then I leaned my head back and took a short nap.
When she finished at the school, we hurried to our second stop which was even further to the south. After that town, we began our journey home. And it was a long journey. Every time we got close to something cool, I would show Joann a picture and ask if she wanted to chase it that day, or save it for another trip.
Usually her answer was to chase it, so we didn’t get home until well after dark. That was one long day, but knowing we had captured this beautiful school made the day worth it.
As I prepared to write this blog, I searched on the school name, Jay County, Indiana history, and everything else I could think of. I couldn’t find any history about the school.
We have our pictures, but we don’t know anything other than the name and the year it was built. Maybe someday in the future, when I’m searching for something else in Indiana, I’ll stumble on some history. Or maybe, if we’re lucky, someone will comment on this blog or on a photo with memories of the school. We can only hope.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)