Trip Peek #103
Trip #41
Zane’s Trace

This picture is from my 2006 three day trip over Zane’s Trace in southeast Ohio. Now called the Olde Wayside Inn, the pictured building was named the Bradford Inn when it opened in 1804. It’s where I spent the first night of the trip. East of Zanesville, the National Road generally followed the 1797 Trace when it entered Ohio in 1825. Even so, there are many remnants of Zane’s Trace that are distinct from the National Road. I scheduled this outing to coincide with an open house at the National Road Museum east of Zanesville where a new guide to the road, written by Glenn Harper and Doug Smith was introduced.


Trip Peeks are short articles published when my world is too busy or too boring for a current events piece to be completed in time for the Sunday posting. In addition to a photo thumbnail from a completed road trip, each Peek includes a brief description of that photo plus links to the full-sized photo and the associated trip journal.

Dam Dents Revisited

I know I can’t do this forever, but I let the Facebook crowd steer me to another blog post this week. This one is somewhat different in that it doesn’t involve something new to me but some things I’d seen multiple times in the past that I was due for a refresher on. Back in 2006, I did Oddment pages on two dams that altered the path of the National Road north of Dayton, Ohio. Those pages are here, for the Taylorsville Dam, and here, for the Englewood Dam. The next year, I wrote an article for American Road Magazine (Vol V Num 3) that talked about both dams. The name of this post comes from the name of that article.

The first photo at left shows the easternmost edge of the easternmost dent. The road runs south for about a mile and a half before turning west to cross the mile-long dam then turning north to rejoin the original route. The dam is shown in the opening photo, which some will recognize as my attempt to reproduce George R. Stewart’s Photo #27 from 1953’s US 40: Cross-Section of the United States of America. Stewart’s photo and my “update” concentrate on the spillway and the bridge that crosses it. More of the massive earthen dam can be seen in the picture at left. The dams were completed in 1922 in response to the horrific 1913 flood. At that time, this was still known as the National Road. It would become US-40 in 1926. The 1953 and 2020 photos show some differences in the bridge itself due to a 1979 rehabilitation. The National Old Trails Road, a continent crossing named auto trail that existed from 1912 to 1926 never crossed these dams since the NOTR followed the “Dayton Cutoff” south through Dayton and Eaton.

There is a small paved area at the east end of the Taylorsville Dam where I parked to photograph it. On the west end, there is an actual park area with considerably more parking space and several informative signs including one from the Ohio National Road Association on Tadmor and Taylorsville. A section of the extensive Miami Vally Trails system passes through here and makes it easy to get to the former location of the town of Tadmor about 1.3 miles away.

The first of these pictures was taken looking back to the south after I’d strolled beyond Tadmor. I have been to the site since the dual purpose plaque (readable here and here) was placed but there are more labeled posts than I remember. Another difference is the rather impenetrable growth between the path and the river. There is a narrow path next to the previously pictured Tadmor sign that leads directly to the abutments of a short bridge that crossed the canal. Because of the growth and my aging sense of adventure, I did not go beyond this today as I did in 2006. The third picture shows a wall of the canal sluice gate with the canal bridge abutments in the foreground.

The rules called for the National Road to follow a straight line to the capital city Columbus with no grade greater than 10%. At Tadmor, following both of these rules in the early 19th century was impossible and it was the straight-line rule that lost. The road turned to the south on the west bank of the Great Miami and curved around a large hill. The grade, though not as bad as climbing the hill, still gave westbound travelers and their animals quite a workout. A spring near the top was certainly a welcome sight. The spring can be reached by heading east a bit where US 40 picks up the original path of the National Road. Although it’s not easy getting a clear view of the spring-fed waterfall, it is pretty easy imagining how refreshing it was to a team of horses dragging a Conestoga wagon up from the riverbank. A less blown-out version of the plaque is here.

An intersection between the dents has a legitimate claim on the Crossroads of America. In the days before US Numbered Highways, the National Road and the Dixie Highway crossed here. With the coming of numbers, the crossing routes became US-40 and US-25. A fair amount of traffic still passes through the intersection today though not nearly as much as through the nearby intersections of the successors to these routes, I-75 and I-70. The memorial bench and explanatory sign are just west of the intersection. A detail lifted from the sign explains a detail lifted from the photo of the intersection.

Continuing west, I came to the beginning of the second dent. Behind those trees on the right is a bypassed earlier curve which I slipped onto for a photograph. The entrance to the eastern portion of Engelwood Metropark is right at the eastern end of the dam. There is parking space for several cars and that is where I paused to photograph the dam and explanatory sign.

The road through the park is one-way which requires the former National Road, now called Patty Road, to be driven from west to east. Since all my other driving in this post has been east to west, that’s the sequence in which I’ve arranged these photos. The little bridge doesn’t look particularly historic when driving over it but the underside is a different story. The second picture shows the bridge from the north side and there’s a view from the south here. A sign that once stood near the bridge has gone missing so I’ve included a photo of it from 2006. The third photo shows where the National Road once continued westward. I walked down it in 2006 but did not today. There really isn’t much to see as a water-filled borrow pit prevents reaching the river.

This is on the west side of the Stillwater River in the smaller portion of Engelwood Metropark. I’ve been in the park before but did not do much exploring. Today I walked an abandoned section of the National Road down to the river. I’ve heard, and have even told others, that there are pieces of bridge abutments along the river. That might be true, but I didn’t see any today. I also didn’t see an explanatory sign mentioned in a Facebook post by William Flood, author of the upcoming Driving the National Road & Route 40 in Ohio: Then and Now. Further online discussion indicated that it might have gone missing from this wooden post. Not finding the sign certainly wasn’t an issue since looking for it is what led me to the riverside and that’s a good thing.


Yes, I had breakfast. The Mell-O-Dee Restaurant isn’t exactly on the National Road, but about two miles to the south where it’s been since 1965. COVID-19 precautions include a closed counter, plexiglass dividers between booths, and masked staff. They bake their own bread and pies and their French toast is made with that bread. It’s what I ordered and devoured with another COVID-19 precaution, disposable utensils.

My Caboodles — Chapter 2
Madonnas of the Trail

The Madonna of the Trail statues were one of the first things that entered my mind when I initially started thinking of sets of things I had seen all of. When the era of named auto trails came to an end, a couple of the major auto trails undertook projects aimed at keeping their names alive for posterity. The Lincoln Highway was marked by nearly 2,500 concrete posts that literally guided travelers along the entire route. The National Old Trails Road Association’s project was, in some sense, less ambitious in that only twelve markers were placed; One in each state the highway passed through. The markers themselves were much larger and more intricate than direction markers and all twelve still exist at or near their original locations which makes seeing the whole caboodle possible. Photos of the statues follow in the sequence in which I first saw them with the exception of the photo at right. That’s a 2018 photo of the Madonna in Richmond, Indiana. Comments accompanying the pictures include the date of dedication, its position in the sequence of dedications, and the coordinates of its location.

1. The first Madonna of the Trail monument I ever saw was, unsurprisingly, the one in my home state of Ohio. It originally stood about three miles west of downtown Springfield but was moved a little closer to town in 1956 or ’57. The first picture was taken in 2004 at the second location. I never saw her at her original location. The second picture shows her at her current home in downtown Springfield where she moved in 2011. Dedicated 1st, July 4, 1928. N39° 55.496′ W83° 48.677′

2. Of course, there’s also no surprise in the fact that my second Madonna was the one in Richmond, Indiana. Not only are these two Madonnas the closest to me, I believe they are closer to each other than any other pair. The first picture was taken in 2004 on the same day as a preceding picture of the Ohio Madonna. The second picture, with a clearer and brighter Madonna and a new walkway, was taken just two years later. Dedicated 9th, October 28, 1928. N39° 49.835′ W84° 52.334′

3. In 2005, I ventured one state beyond Indiana to visit my third Madonna of the Trail monument in Vandalia, Illinois. A festival that I never did identify, was in progress in the former state capital when we arrived. As part of the festival, raffle tickets were being sold at the base of the monument which sits on the grounds of the old capitol building. Dedicated 7th, October 26, 1928. N38° 57.649′ W89° 05.671′

4. A month later, I added two Madonnas in the states just east of Ohio. The sightings occurred on the way home from a business trip to central Pennsylvania so that state’s Madonna, at Beallsville, was encountered first. Dedicated 10th, December 8, 1928. N40° 03.630′ W80° 00.776′

5. West Virginia’s Madonna of the Trail came next. It is positioned a little east of Wheeling. At this point, 80% of the Madonna monuments I had seen were situated on or very near golf courses and I began to think there might be some sort of symbiotic relationship between the two. Dedicated 2nd, July 7, 1928. N40° 03.362′ W80° 40.157′

6. In September 2005, I bagged my fourth Madonna of the year and sixth overall. The California monument is not near a golf course or any other open space. It is in the city of Upland in the median of a busy street near an intersection with an even busier street. I would, in fact, never find another Madonna and golf course pairing. Dedicated 11th, February 1, 1929. N34° 06.434′ W117° 39.073′

7. In 2006, I drove the full length of the National Road in celebration of the 200th anniversary of the legislation that first authorized it. That took me past all of the Madonnas east of the Mississippi but only one of those was new to me. It was also missing. A sinkhole had endangered the Bethesda, Maryland, monument prior to my visit and it was stored a few miles away awaiting site repairs. That turned into an opportunity for my absolute favorite Madonna of the Trail photo ever. I was able to get a shot of the lady in her rightful place in 2011. Dedicated 12th, April 19, 1929. N38° 59.046′ W77° 05.655′

8. On the west edge of Lexington, Missouri’s Madonna of the Trail became my eighth in May 2007. Getting to two-thirds of the caboodle took just four years but it would be another four years before I would even get started on the last third. Dedicated 4th, September 17, 1928. N39° 11.197′ W93° 53.177′

9. A two Madonna day started in 2011 with the monument in Springerville, Arizona. Here the idea of Madonna of the Trail monuments being given scenic pastoral settings really took a beating. This lady occupies a small plot adjacent to a MacDonald’s. The marker behind her identifies this as a stop on a historic driving tour. Dedicated 7th, September 29, 1928. N34° 07.993′ W109° 17.108′

10. The second Madonna of the day was in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’d been in Albuquerque before but had missed the monument. I had previously driven through the city on Historic US 66 which was the National Old Trails Road successor in these parts but I had not driven the original pre-1937 alignment which had followed the NOTR and on which the statue had been placed. Another complication was that the monument had been moved to the north corner of the area it was in which put it nearly a block away from even the old Sixty-Six alignment. To make up for missing it on earlier visits, I’ve included a picture of Madonna with a friend. Dedicated 6th, September 27, 1928. N35° 05.572′ W106° 38.991′

11. The count stayed at ten for another five years. I reached the final pair on consecutive days in 2016. The Madonna of the Trail monument in Lamar, Colorado, is next to an old train station now serving as a visitor center. Dedicated 5th, September 24, 1928. N38° 05.360′ W102° 37.147′

12. In Council Grove, Kansas, the setting for the Madonna of the Trail monument is pretty open. It’s a bit reminiscent of the park-like settings of my early Madonna visits even though there isn’t a golf course in sight. Dedicated 3rd, September 7, 1928. N38° 39.724′ W96° 29.212′

ADDENDUM 14-Jan-2024: After gathering the coordinates of all the Madonnas for another project, I decided to add them here.

Book Review
Headley Inn and Cliff Rock House
Cyndie L. Gerken

Cyndie Gerken’s third big helping of National Road knowledge was served up a bit more than a year ago, and I have no good excuse, or even enough bad ones, to account for waiting so long to take a look. Of course, once I did, the same accuracy and thoroughness that marked her earlier books were instantly apparent in this one. In 2015, she documented Ohio’s National Road mile markers with Marking the Miles Along the National Road Through Ohio.  In 2018, Taking the Tolls Along the National Road Through Ohio told of the toll gates that operated after the federal government rid itself of the highway by giving it to the states through which it passed. Both books took a deep and wide look at their subjects although that phrase did not occur to me until I was well into the current volume.

Those other books were geographically wide because they involved the whole state of Ohio, and they were also wide in the variety of information they included on their subjects. Depth came from the layers of time and degree of detail covered. Headley… isn’t nearly as wide geographically (The two buildings in the title are barely 300 feet apart.), but it does include the passing road and nearby towns, and the information variety is every bit as wide as in the first two offerings. The detail component of depth is at least equal to that of the earlier books and the time component is considerably greater. The period covered by all three begins at roughly the same time but the story of the two inns has yet to end.

Physically the latest book is much like the others. All are largish paperbacks printed in color. All include a brief overview of the history of the National Road that provides context for the rest of the book. Headley…‘s introduction also includes information on the surrounding area and the role of early roadside inns and taverns.

Both of the book’s subjects appeared almost immediately after the National Road passed by the land they would occupy. The first section of the Cliff Rock House was completed in 1830 and the Headley Inn’s first section in 1833. Other dates have appeared in articles and even on signs but Gerken sorts through the various claims and presents a solid case for these dates. Both structures have been enlarged and modified over the years. Despite their nearness to each other, the inns were constructed and operated independently by two separate families. That has not always been the case although it is again today.

It is generally thought that the Headley Inn initially served as a stagecoach stop while the larger Cliff Rock House catered more to drovers herding sheep and other animals to market. That sort of division was never iron clad, of course, but that kind of thinking does serve to justify the two businesses being so close.

The two periods of glory experienced by the two taverns naturally coincide with the glory days of the passing road. They prospered in the early eighteenth century doing what they were constructed for: serving travelers on the new National Road. Gerken digs deep into public records and family histories to tell the story of this period. Prosperity ended with the coming of the railroad.

Prosperity returned in the early part of the next century when traffic returned to the road out front. This time the customers were carried by automobiles. Alexander Smith, who had built the Cliff Rock House, added the Headley Inn to his holdings in 1857. In 1922, two of his granddaughters opened a restaurant and tearoom in the former stagecoach stop. The old National Road had become part of the National Old Trails Road. Its traffic, and the sisters’ culinary skills, made the tea room a nationally known success. Like they did elsewhere, the interstates of the last half of the twentieth century pulled traffic from the old road and might have ended this second round of glory if the sisters had not already ended it by retiring and closing the restaurant in 1961.

Gerken also uses public records to tell of the tearoom period but they form a much smaller part of the story. There is considerable family documentation available, including photographs, and, more significantly, she has access to quite a bit of living memory of the era. The most important source of that living memory is the son of one of those sisters, Alexander Smith Howard. He not only shared stories that appear throughout the book, he also wrote its foreword.

Living memory provides even more input to the post-tearoom era and here the living memory is sometimes Gerken’s own although it is more often her personal interviews with the short series of owners. The book is heavily illustrated with historical photos, maps, diagrams, newspaper clippings, and more. Modern photos include many taken by the author herself.

For the third time, an era of glory early in a new century is a definite possibility. Major restoration of the Headley Inn was accomplished by Stephen and Bernadine Brown during their 1989 to 2006 ownership. It continued under Alan and Patricia Chaffee until 2015. The current owners, Brian and Carrie Adams, along with their daughter Ashley, have added their own historically sensitive improvements and now operate a bed and breakfast with facilities for weddings and other gatherings. In 2018, Cliff Rock House was purchased by Otto and Sally Luburgh and restoration work is now underway there.

I know that this book’s true value lies in its collection of facts, photos, and carefully researched history. It is unequaled in that regard. Much of its readability, however, comes from the stories that fill the background and cluster around the edges. From the story of the Headly Inn’s original owner verbally abusing federal troops early in the Civil War, and tales of tearoom employees drawing straws to determine who had to brave snakes in the attic to retrieve supplies, to reports of elephants appearing — both expected and not — in front of the inn, there are plenty of human interest style anecdotes to balance the solid and valuable historical facts.

Headley Inn and Cliff Rock House: A Storied History of Two Taverns Along Ohio’s National Road, Cyndie L. Gerken, Independently published, March 20, 2019, 11 x 8.5 inches, 378 pages, ISBN 978-1790228089
Available through Amazon.

Free? Advertising on the Dixie

Seeing things like signs, banners, and menus for local businesses bearing the logo of some large corporation is quite common. Details vary but the basic model is that the big corporation shoulders some or all of the cost and the small business gets some advertising for little or nothing. The idea is hardly new and the concept has never been restricted to purely commercial enterprises. During the last half of the 1920s, a pairing of this sort existed between a major highway and an American hereditary association. The major highway was, of course, the Dixie Highway. The hereditary association was the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC).

The UDC was the “advertiser” in this instance. Between 1926 and 1935 the organization was responsible for at least ten plaques being erected beside the highway. It’s unclear whether or not the Dixie Highway Association was an active participant in this arrangement. Because the 1926 creation of the United States Numbered Highway System brought an end to all of the named auto trails, the DHA was not very active at this point.

Combined, the previous picture and the one at right show the ten plaques in north to south sequence. The northernmost marker is in Ohio, the southernmost is in Florida, the one preceding it is in South Carolina, and the others are in North Carolina. Except for the date erected, eight of the plaques are identical. The one in Florida contains the same text as those eight but has a different image of Lee. The one in South Carolina contains different text but has the same image as the bulk of the plaques.

The South Carolina plaque is the bigger oddity. All the others were erected in 1926, ’27, or ’28. It was erected in 1935. One of the differences in its text is its specific identification of the Greenville and Fort Sumter Chapters of the UDC as being responsible for erecting the marker. All others simply identify the overall UDC. The Florida marker was erected in 1927 ahead of at least three others. None of the other nine markers uses this image of General Lee.

Eight of the plaques essentially look just like this one which happens to be in Ohio. All plaques follow this general format even when some details vary. Approximately the top one-third is occupied by an image of General Lee on horseback. His name appears below the image in large letters. A bit farther down is the name of the auto trail. The letters in DIXIE HIGHWAY are larger than the general text but smaller than the letters in Lee’s name.

Maybe what I’ve written so far will help explain how I’m currently thinking about these markers. My first contact with the markers was in 2008 when I stumbled upon the one in Marshall, NC. After I learned there were others, I made a point of visiting them all and accomplished that in early 2015. At the time I thought of them as something similar to the Madonna of the Trail markers on the National Old Trails Road. That’s pretty much how I saw them until the summer of 2017.

Streets, parks, and statues honoring military and civilian leaders of the Confederate States of America had been drawing more and more attention. In August of 2017, the death of a counterprotester at a white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, VA, cranked that attention up several notches. There was now enough attention for some of it to fall on one of those UDC plaques less than twenty miles from my home. Within days of the events in Charlottesville, a group in Dayton, OH, announced plans for a protest at the plaque near Franklin, OH. Plans to protest the protesters formed almost as quickly. City officials made a preemptive strike by removing and hiding the marker in the middle of the night. It didn’t make anybody happy but it didn’t make anybody dead, either.

Some news crews and some of those not happy people made it to the site on the morning following the removal. I made it, too, in the role of curious bystander. I chatted casually with a couple of the reporters and tried to defend the Dixie Highway a bit. I’d been calling the plaques and their mountings Dixie-Lee markers. Everyone else was calling the Franklin marker a Robert E. Lee monument and occasionally mentioning that it was on the Dixie Highway. It slowly sunk in that, for the reasons above, they were right. The monuments were not primarily concerned with marking a road like the Madonnas of the Trail or the concrete posts along the Lincoln Highway. I found myself explaining that the Dixie Highway was not associated with the Confederacy and asking that they not tie it too closely to Lee. For the first time, I compared the markers to a big branded beer sign with “Bob’s Bar” at its bottom. Learning that the brand on the sign was run by crooks, doesn’t automatically mean that Bob is a crook.

The plaque has been pried from the stone at the NC-SC border. It is lost or possibly destroyed. The marker in downtown Asheville has been attacked and damaged twice. The Franklin, OH, marker is back at roadside but is now on private property. That’s it in the picture at left. It’s even been buffed up and polished a bit. I want all the markers to stay. I deplore the vandalism that has occurred in the Carolinas but I don’t consider it an attack on the Dixie Highway. I now see that those markers really are what others have called them, Robert E. Lee monuments that happen to be on the Dixie Highway.

This topic came to me as I was writing last week’s post about the name of the Dixie Highway. I initially thought of it as a paragraph or two tacked onto that post. The length of the Dixie name post left no room to tack on anything and it is now quite obvious that a paragraph or two wouldn’t have been nearly enough. But it’s also pretty obvious that the two belong together. Again, I want all the markers to stay. But I don’t want them to stay at the expense of the Dixie Highway. Controversy will continue to swirl around statues, flags, and other items legitimately tied to the Confederacy. The Dixie Highway should not be part of that. Saying, as I have, that neither the word Dixie nor the Dixie Highway is inherently racist loses some sincerity if defending the road includes defending these markers.

Cambridge Spirit(s)

Like the one a fortnight earlier, last Sunday was preceded by a very blog-worthy Saturday that just had to wait because the weekly blog slot was already filled. Again, I’m calling that good since it gave me all week to produce this post rather than trying to put it together overnight. If I had, it’s certain that it would contain fewer pictures and more mistakes. The actual target of my trip was Zanesville, Ohio, but that’s close enough to Cambridge that I drove over to visit the annual Dickens Victorian Village. As things turned out, Cambridge and the figures that line its streets during the holidays get almost the entire post.

There are nearly 200 of the life-sized figures. Each is unique and dressed in Victorian-era clothing. They are grouped into 90-some scenes. Some come directly from a Charles Dickens story while others represent sights the author might have encountered walking around nineteenth-century England.

This is the village’s fourteenth year, and I believe this is at least the fourth time I’ve visited. The bulk of the figures are placed along Wheeling Avenue which once carried the National Road. The road and a bridge pictured on that panel will be mentioned again before this article ends.

The Guernsey County Historical Society offered two “living” tours of Cambridge’s Old City Cemetery and I made it to the second one. The first resident we met was Sophia Gibout, Sophia was a washerwoman who died in 1865 after living in Cambridge for many years. Being familiar with other residents — both before and after their move to the cemetery — she accompanied us as a guide. The lady with the white muff is Elizabeth Taylor, wife of Joseph Taylor. The Taylors figured prominently in Cambridge’s early history. A newspaper and hotel were among their contributions and Joseph served in the U.S. House of Representatives. Isaac Oldham, the fellow in the third photo, settled in the area before Cambridge was established.

The American Civil War was naturally a major chapter in the history of Cambridge and these three figures have some interesting personal connections to it. Before serving in the war, James Adair walked to California to join the gold rush of 1849, made his fortune in the goldfields, then returned to Ohio by taking a ship south to the isthmus of Panama, traveling across it, and heading north on another ship. Captain Adair was killed in Virginia in 1962 and his body returned to Cambridge for burial. John Cook was killed by an unknown assailant in March of 1865. The murderer and an accomplice were eventually tracked down and a major trial, which overlapped that of Lincoln’s assassins, resulted in both being hanged. The gentleman in the tophat is C.P.B. Sarchet. He survived the war after reaching the rank of colonel then developed a reputation as a great historian. He was born in 1828 which he proudly pointed out was the same year that the National Road came through and that double covered bridge on the panel downtown was built. The bridge stood until washed away by the flood of 1913. Colonel Sarchet died a few weeks later.

We walked back to where we had first met Sophia and where Elizabeth was waiting. Like Paul Harvey, Elizabeth wanted to make sure we knew the rest of Sophia’s story. She was well-liked in the town and at her death friends arranged for a proper burial. It was then that the undertaker discovered that the washerwoman was physically a man. That simple revelation ended the “living” tour and started some personal brain activity. I’ve read of nineteenth-century women disguising themselves as men in order to join the military, drive a stagecoach, or participate in some other activity otherwise denied them. This was something different. There are essentially no reasons that would justify choosing to live as a lower-class female in the early 1800s. Sophia Gibout’s story should make anyone who believes that questions of gender identity are a 21st-century phenomenon think just a little deeper.

Following the “living” tour, a presentation on tombstone symbols was provided by Randy Neff of the Guernsey County Genealogical Society. In the photo, Randy is standing beside a tombstone showing a pair of hands. The hand on the viewer’s left represents the deceased. It is always stiff and lifeless and is gripped by the other hand which may represent an already deceased spouse or other relative. A hand coming from a cloud represents the hand of God himself pulling the newly deceased into Heaven.

It was now that l realized my great blunder. I had driven to the area for the purpose of attending a gathering of the Ohio National Road Association. It was on my phone calendar for 7:00 PM. As I left the cemetery, I considered driving the short distance east to Wheeling, West Virginia, where one of my favorite bridges had recently been closed. I can’t explain why I only now double-checked the phone calendar with the original ONRA mailing, but that’s what I did. My intent was to determine with certainty whether or not if I had time to drive to Wheeling and back to Zanesville. What I discovered was that the information on my phone was terribly wrong. The gathering was a 12:00 lunch, not a 7:00 dinner. I had plenty of time to drive to Wheeling because I had already completely missed the event.

The 1849 Wheeling suspension bridge was closed in late September due to continuing violations of weight limits. I didn’t expect to discover anything new but my basic curiosity prompted me to take a look since I was fairly close. The result is a picture of a bridge closed sign.

Anticipating an evening spent with National Road fans near Zanesville, I had a motel reserved nearby. The sun set while I was in Wheeling which gave me an opportunity to stop in Cambridge for a look at the wonderful light show at the Guernsey county courthouse. 

Trip Peek #76
Trip #52
Blues, Books, & Battles

This picture is from my 2007 Blues, Books, & Battles trip. It was, as indicated by the title, a three parter. The blues part was a Patrick Sweany show at The Purple Fiddle in Thomas, West Virginia. I got there on the rather scenic US-50. Following a night in Thomas, I headed to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for the book part. The target was a promotional event for a new book, The Lincoln Highway: Coast to Coast from Times Square to the Golden Gate, from Michael Wallis and Michael Williamson. I’ve met Wallis several times before and since but this was my first and only time meeting Williamson. Although I enjoyed that and wandering through the Heinz History Center, the real highlight was meeting Brian Butko and Bernie Queneau for the first time. I did not charge into battle for part three; I visited the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial where lots of military history is on display. Of particular interest and the reason for my visit, was a section devoted to the 78th Infantry Division. That’s the unit my dad was with in World War II.


Trip Peeks are short articles published when my world is too busy or too boring for a current events piece to be completed in time for the Sunday posting. In addition to a photo thumbnail from a completed road trip, each Peek includes a brief description of that photo plus links to the full sized photo and the associated trip journal.

Trip Peek #73
Trip #67
Lincoln Highway East

This picture is from my 2008 Lincoln Highway East trip. I used a business trip to the Philadelphia area as the lead-in to a drive on the easternmost portion of the Lincoln Highway. That’s Times Square, where the LH begins, in the picture. After braving Manhattan, I spent the next day in Philadelphia looking over the Liberty Bell and other pieces of history before finally moving beyond the east coast congestion. I stayed with the Lincoln Highway to Greensburg, PA, then shifted to the National Road, which I followed to Zanesville, OH. When I reached Wheeling, WV, on July 5th, I learned that the Independence Day fireworks had been rained out and rescheduled, so I stuck around to see the show that was launched from the 1849 suspension bridge.


Trip Peeks are short articles published when my world is too busy or too boring for a current events piece to be completed in time for the Sunday posting. In addition to a photo thumbnail from a completed road trip, each Peek includes a brief description of that photo plus links to the full sized photo and the associated trip journal.

Book Review
Taking the Tolls Along the National Road Through Ohio
Cyndie L. Gerken

The question was never if there would be another book, just when and what. The answers are “now” (actually February) and “toll gates”. In my review of Cyndie L. Gerken’s first book, Marking the Miles Along the National Road Through Ohio, I noted that the huge amount of information presented in that book was only a portion of what Gerken has collected and that we would probably someday see “a Gerken penned treatise on bridges or taverns or toll houses or something else” which shows that taking three or four guesses really improves one’s chances of being right. Nailed it!

Taking the Tolls Along the National Road Through Ohio: A Study of Toll Gates and Toll Houses on Ohio’s National Road duplicates the form of Gerken’s first book. Both are rather large paperbacks. Both books are also filled with accurate and precise information, but that part’s not duplication; That’s just what Gerken does.

Federal funds for building the National Road dried up somewhere around Springfield, Ohio. Federal funds for maintaining it seem to have never existed. The “Gates Bill” of 1822 was a valiant attempt to finance ongoing maintenance through federally operated toll gates, but President Monroe vetoed the bill. At the time, the role of the federal government in internal improvements was a hotly debated topic. Regarding the power to establish and collect tolls, Madison was “…of the opinion that Congress does not possess this power…” The Feds solved the problem by giving the road to the states. The states solved the problem by charging to use the road. Sometimes the state charged the users directly by collecting tolls. Sometimes the state leased sections of the road to counties or even privately owned companies who then collected tolls.

In Ohio, things got started with seventeen toll gates which were soon augmented by three half gates. One thing this book taught me is that half gates are not, as I convinced myself, gates where a toll is charged in only one direction (Hey, it’s not that dumb!), but gates placed between full gates to catch traffic entering and leaving the road without paying any toll at all. Over the years, individual gates were moved and closed and new ones added.

As she did with her first book, Gerken details her subject in a chapter per county moving east to west. However, before that happens, there is an introduction filled with information about the road and toll gates in general, then chapters on vehicles, toll house architecture, and bridges. Each of these, and the county chapters too, contain numerous photos and stories that color in the detailed information and keep things from becoming boring.

Pictures of gate houses and gate keepers are to be expected, but they are not the only photo subjects presented. This might be the only book available with pictures of the world’s longest bar, grave robbers, a two-headed calf, a Spanish dime, Hopalong Cassidy, and the author’s mother riding in a goat cart. And every one of them belongs.

People almost always keep things from being boring, and Gerken didn’t just compile data on buildings and locations. She dug up facts and stories on the people who occupied those buildings. Although much of that information is sprinkled throughout the book, even more is concentrated in a chapter titled “Meet the Gate Keepers” that follows the county chapters.

At this point, the book could be called boring without triggering a big argument from me. It is here that Gerken lists her numerous references and places several appendices of source material for rates, dates, and so on. Because of Gerken’s thorough research, the entire volume is certain to find work as a reference book but that is especially true of the last fifty or so pages. Three hundred pages of a nice blend of information and entertainment followed by fifty pages of “just the facts” is a pretty good mix.

Taking the Tolls Along the National Road Through Ohio: A Study of Toll Gates and Toll Houses on Ohio’s National Road, Cyndie L. Gerken, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, February 8, 2018, 11 x 8.5 inches, 366 pages, ISBN 978-1981653515
Available through Amazon.

Allegheny, Monongahela, Ohio, and Nile

No river actually runs through Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The Allegheny and Monongahela flow into the city where they combine to form the Ohio which flows out. On Monday, I drove US-22 from near my home to where that wet magic takes place.

And Willie Nile isn’t a river at all. He’s a rock and roller who is performing in Pittsburgh on Tuesday. I’m here to see that and some of the city too.

This entry is to let blog only subscribers now about the trip and to provide a place for comments. The journal is here.