By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
According to Clifton Mill’s website, the original mill in Clifton, Ohio was built in 1802 by Owen Davis, a Revolutionary War soldier and pioneer miller. The location of the mill was chosen to take advantage of the power of the Little Miami River as it rushed through the gorge. This river powered five other mills that were built nearby: a woolen mill, a saw mill, a paper mill, a barrel mill, and another grist mill. Historic Clifton Mill is the only one still standing.
The mill was rebuilt in 1869 and is seven stories tall. The grounds now include a covered bridge and a 1940’s era gas station museum. At Christmas, there is also a miniature village set up with amazing detail. Trains run around the village, and you can see movie clips playing on the outdoor theater’s screen.
Anthony Satariano Sr., and his son Anthony Jr. bought the mill in 1988. They consulted with mill experts and made improvements to the old mill including repairing floors and walls and reinstalling the original grinding stones. They also installed a replica of the original waterwheel and added the covered porch that now overlooks the waterfall that spills down the hillside into the Little Miami River.
As Christmas approached that first year, they draped 100,000 lights on the cliffs along the river and on the mill. They expected a few hundred visitors at most to come to see the mill, but instead, thousands came.
As the years passed, they added more and more lights. Now they are up to 3.5 million lights which take six men the better part of three months to put up.
In 2004, I stumbled on pictures of the Christmas lights at the mill. Of course, I shared the photos with Joann, and we decided that we had to make a trip to see them. Since the lights are up from the day after Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day, we made plans to go in early December. We crossed our fingers that the weather would be good for our drive.
The universe was with us and the weather was good. We wanted to be at the mill before the gates opened, and we did manage to get there early and get parked and then walked to the gate. Mr. Satariano Sr. was in the ticket booth at the gate and we struck up a conversation.
He asked where we had come from and we told him Wisconsin. He then asked us what brought us to Ohio. When we told him his mill did, he laughed and then asked us, “Seriously, what brings you to Ohio?” Again we told him it was just to see his mill. He seemed impressed that we would come so far.
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label gas stations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gas stations. Show all posts
Sunday, December 25, 2011
"The Legendary Lights at Clifton Mill"
At 5:00 pm the gates opened and we walked inside in search of the best place to view the mill and the gorge for the lights. Between 5:00 and 6:00 pm, there are a few lights on around the mill. After sizing up the views from many different positions, Joann decided that the best view was through one of the windows on the covered bridge. But that meant that she couldn’t use her tripod. So, she leaned into the window and steadied her camera on the windowsill. Then we waited in the darkness as families crossed the bridge to find a spot on the other side.
Several minutes before 6:00 pm, all of the lights went out leaving everyone in total darkness. Then music began to play and the lights on the covered bridge began to twinkle to the music. As the music ended, all of the lights went out again. Then suddenly, all 3.5 million lights came on all at once, and you could hear the exclamations of awe from the crowd.
Every hour, the mill was plunged into total darkness and the scene was replayed. Even if you were there for the prior hour’s lighting, you were amazed again when the 3.5 million lights came on all at once. It was beautiful and magical. The view down the back of the mill along the gorge was amazing.
The lights are not on during rain or inclement weather and, this year, the mill was dark for several days after heavy rain damaged some of the lights along the gorge. They were quickly replaced and the light show was back on.
We are very happy that we got to meet and chat with Anthony Sr. on our visit. Unfortunately, he passed away in 2008. We look forward to a return trip someday, so we are most grateful that his son, and partner in the mill, Anthony Jr., has continued this Christmas tradition.
“You cannot own history; you can only be the caretaker.” – Anthony Satariano Sr.
Merry Christmas and Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
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Monday, July 4, 2011
The Lincoln Highway in Iowa
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
A mere 100 years ago, the only roads that existed in the US were around cities. There were no planned routes between cities, and very few “improved” roads. A road was considered improved if it was graded and only a few in those days were gravel or brick. If you find any pictures of cars traveling on those first roads, you will often see them axle deep in mud and ruts.
In 1912, Carl Fisher had an idea for a coast to coast rock highway. He tried to get the interest of both private citizens and automobile companies. Henry Joy of the Packard Motor Company became the spokesman for the idea. He was the one who suggested the Lincoln Highway name. In 1913, the Lincoln Highway Association was created and Henry Joy was elected president. In the years following, the Lincoln Highway slowly took shape.
In March of 1925, the American Association of State Highway Officials (AASHO) began planning a federal highway system that was to consist of a series of numbered highways. All of the existing named roads, including the Lincoln Highway were ignored in their planning. The Lincoln Highway Association wanted the same highway number to be associated with the highway across the country. This was not to be in the new federal plan, so the last major activity of the association was to mark the highway with small concrete markers as a memorial to Abraham Lincoln. On September 1, 1928, thousands of Boy Scouts fanned out along the highway. At an average of about one per mile, they installed small concrete markers with a small bust of Lincoln and the inscription “This highway dedicated to Abraham Lincoln.”
Many businesses had sprung up along the Lincoln Highway especially in the towns the highway passed through. It is those businesses that Joann and I find fascinating. We have less interest in driving every mile of the original highway than in those businesses that did business along the highway, and in some cases still do.
If you read our post “When it Rains, It Pours”, you know that our first trip along the Lincoln Highway was to visit Belle Plaine, Iowa. We are fascinated by old gas stations and their signage, and you can’t find more of this history than at Preston’s Station in Belle Plaine.
Along with the station itself, sits an old Rumely Oil Pull tractor. Rumely OilPulls were a line of tractors built by the Advance-Rumely Thresher Company of LaPorte, Indiana beginning in 1910. They seem to have more in common with old steam engines than regular tractors.
Over the years, the route of the Lincoln Highway was marked in various ways. Sometimes the colors of red, white, and blue were painted on telephone poles and sometimes other methods of marking the highway were used.
During my research, I found a picture of the Youngville Station, which was located along the Lincoln Highway. Had Youngville been a town at one time? I searched everything I could find and could not come up with a location. As Joann and I headed home after one of our trips to Iowa, we were flying down a divided Highway 30 west of Cedar Rapids when we looked at each other with a “did you see that?” expression, and Joann screeched the car to a halt along the wide shoulder of the road.
We managed to turn the car around and pull into the parking area where we spent some time walking around the building and taking photos. As Joann often does, she even ran out onto the highway to get the best photo. (Her gravestone in the end will probably read something about being smucked on the highway, doing what she loved.)
So, as you travel the byways and backroads of this great country, take photos and make memories, but try to stay out of the middle of the road.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
A mere 100 years ago, the only roads that existed in the US were around cities. There were no planned routes between cities, and very few “improved” roads. A road was considered improved if it was graded and only a few in those days were gravel or brick. If you find any pictures of cars traveling on those first roads, you will often see them axle deep in mud and ruts.
In 1912, Carl Fisher had an idea for a coast to coast rock highway. He tried to get the interest of both private citizens and automobile companies. Henry Joy of the Packard Motor Company became the spokesman for the idea. He was the one who suggested the Lincoln Highway name. In 1913, the Lincoln Highway Association was created and Henry Joy was elected president. In the years following, the Lincoln Highway slowly took shape.
In March of 1925, the American Association of State Highway Officials (AASHO) began planning a federal highway system that was to consist of a series of numbered highways. All of the existing named roads, including the Lincoln Highway were ignored in their planning. The Lincoln Highway Association wanted the same highway number to be associated with the highway across the country. This was not to be in the new federal plan, so the last major activity of the association was to mark the highway with small concrete markers as a memorial to Abraham Lincoln. On September 1, 1928, thousands of Boy Scouts fanned out along the highway. At an average of about one per mile, they installed small concrete markers with a small bust of Lincoln and the inscription “This highway dedicated to Abraham Lincoln.”
Many businesses had sprung up along the Lincoln Highway especially in the towns the highway passed through. It is those businesses that Joann and I find fascinating. We have less interest in driving every mile of the original highway than in those businesses that did business along the highway, and in some cases still do.
If you read our post “When it Rains, It Pours”, you know that our first trip along the Lincoln Highway was to visit Belle Plaine, Iowa. We are fascinated by old gas stations and their signage, and you can’t find more of this history than at Preston’s Station in Belle Plaine.
Along with the station itself, sits an old Rumely Oil Pull tractor. Rumely OilPulls were a line of tractors built by the Advance-Rumely Thresher Company of LaPorte, Indiana beginning in 1910. They seem to have more in common with old steam engines than regular tractors.
Over the years, the route of the Lincoln Highway was marked in various ways. Sometimes the colors of red, white, and blue were painted on telephone poles and sometimes other methods of marking the highway were used.
During my research, I found a picture of the Youngville Station, which was located along the Lincoln Highway. Had Youngville been a town at one time? I searched everything I could find and could not come up with a location. As Joann and I headed home after one of our trips to Iowa, we were flying down a divided Highway 30 west of Cedar Rapids when we looked at each other with a “did you see that?” expression, and Joann screeched the car to a halt along the wide shoulder of the road.
We managed to turn the car around and pull into the parking area where we spent some time walking around the building and taking photos. As Joann often does, she even ran out onto the highway to get the best photo. (Her gravestone in the end will probably read something about being smucked on the highway, doing what she loved.)
So, as you travel the byways and backroads of this great country, take photos and make memories, but try to stay out of the middle of the road.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Saturday, July 25, 2009
"Oh crap....not again!"
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
In April of this year, on our way to shunpiking in the Ohio River Valley, we stopped to take some pictures along the National Road in Indiana. The road was rather busy, so we turned onto a side road and pulled over on a large gravel shoulder. Joann grabbed her gear and headed down the road.
As usual, my head was down as I studied the map for a route around a large city we were approaching. The next thing I knew, there were flashing lights reflecting off the side mirror. Looking up, I saw a female police officer approaching the driver’s side window. She smiled at me and asked me if we were all right. I said, “We’re fine, my sister is off photographing.” She said “Ok, have a nice day,” went back to her car, turned off the flashing lights, and drove away.
When Joann came back to the car, I could tell that she hadn’t even seen the flashing lights. All she said was, “Check out this cool granary shot I just took.” So I said, “The cops are really nice here.” She said, “Oh, oh….were the cops here?” She does get in her zone when she’s photographing.
In June, we took a weekend photographing trip to western Iowa. (We were so far west that we could have dipped our toes into South Dakota!) On Saturday evening, we heard about a replica 1932 Phillips 66 gas station that was on a main highway along the way to our motel. When we found the gas station, there was a nice big shoulder directly across the road, so Joann pulled over and parked the car. She grabbed her gear and went across the road to photograph.
With my head down, studying the map, I was surprised to see flashing lights in the side mirror and a police car pulling up. The police officer came up to the window and said in a not so friendly tone that we’d have to move the car over to a side road. As Joann started the car, I noticed a sign a little ways ahead of us that said “Absolutely no parking”. It was nice of him to ask us to move instead of giving us a ticket, and I can only assume a lot of people miss that little sign.
But the pictures were worth it. By the time we moved the car, the clouds had shifted and the lighting was better for the rest of the photographs.
The following morning, we got up very early and headed out to photograph a couple of things in the downtown area before there was any traffic. It was just starting to get light when Joann captured the first images for the day. Then, as she crossed the street with her tripod in tow, a police car went by. She watched as it turned and pulled up behind the car. “Oh crap….not again!” she said as she put the tripod in the car.
As she tried to explain what we were doing, the police officer just stared at her. This is often the response we get, particularly when anyone in their right mind would still be snuggled up under the covers. But, as it turned out, he was trying to think of other things we might want to photograph. He ended up telling us about this old brick depot that was down by the railroad tracks.
As Joann attempted to explain her “innocence” to that cop, all I could do was smile because, for once, it was she who had to do the explaining. Some day, though, I’m going to be carted off in a police car and she probably won’t even notice until she comes back to the car and there is no one to navigate!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
In April of this year, on our way to shunpiking in the Ohio River Valley, we stopped to take some pictures along the National Road in Indiana. The road was rather busy, so we turned onto a side road and pulled over on a large gravel shoulder. Joann grabbed her gear and headed down the road.
As usual, my head was down as I studied the map for a route around a large city we were approaching. The next thing I knew, there were flashing lights reflecting off the side mirror. Looking up, I saw a female police officer approaching the driver’s side window. She smiled at me and asked me if we were all right. I said, “We’re fine, my sister is off photographing.” She said “Ok, have a nice day,” went back to her car, turned off the flashing lights, and drove away.
When Joann came back to the car, I could tell that she hadn’t even seen the flashing lights. All she said was, “Check out this cool granary shot I just took.” So I said, “The cops are really nice here.” She said, “Oh, oh….were the cops here?” She does get in her zone when she’s photographing.
In June, we took a weekend photographing trip to western Iowa. (We were so far west that we could have dipped our toes into South Dakota!) On Saturday evening, we heard about a replica 1932 Phillips 66 gas station that was on a main highway along the way to our motel. When we found the gas station, there was a nice big shoulder directly across the road, so Joann pulled over and parked the car. She grabbed her gear and went across the road to photograph.
With my head down, studying the map, I was surprised to see flashing lights in the side mirror and a police car pulling up. The police officer came up to the window and said in a not so friendly tone that we’d have to move the car over to a side road. As Joann started the car, I noticed a sign a little ways ahead of us that said “Absolutely no parking”. It was nice of him to ask us to move instead of giving us a ticket, and I can only assume a lot of people miss that little sign.
But the pictures were worth it. By the time we moved the car, the clouds had shifted and the lighting was better for the rest of the photographs.
The following morning, we got up very early and headed out to photograph a couple of things in the downtown area before there was any traffic. It was just starting to get light when Joann captured the first images for the day. Then, as she crossed the street with her tripod in tow, a police car went by. She watched as it turned and pulled up behind the car. “Oh crap….not again!” she said as she put the tripod in the car.
As she tried to explain what we were doing, the police officer just stared at her. This is often the response we get, particularly when anyone in their right mind would still be snuggled up under the covers. But, as it turned out, he was trying to think of other things we might want to photograph. He ended up telling us about this old brick depot that was down by the railroad tracks.
As Joann attempted to explain her “innocence” to that cop, all I could do was smile because, for once, it was she who had to do the explaining. Some day, though, I’m going to be carted off in a police car and she probably won’t even notice until she comes back to the car and there is no one to navigate!
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
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