Thirty-eight thousand souls; has a big Anchor Hocking plant. The company was named for the Hocking river, which may have been named for a nearby town of Hockhocking. Native American (Delaware) word meaning "Bottle River." .

Let's see what downtown looks like.s

Well, I’d like to think it’s being rehabbed, but . . .

. . . if so, it doesn’t appear that the windows are changing back to their original size, and will remain cramped portals for brief peering.

Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle:

What caught my eye, aside from the large and somehow ominous sign (YES THIS IS JOHNSONS SHOES NO IT COULD NOT BE ANYTHING ELSE WHY DO YOU ASK) was the cave they drilled in the building to make some display cases. It’s deep and dark; who’d wander in there to look at the new styles? Original stone, though - very much the perfectly preserved mid-century retail look.

The flour was Gold Medal, from Minneapolis. As for the other name . . .


A little googling turns up a Bauman building elsewhere in town, so I gather he was a mover and/or shaker, and while I’m sure there’s a mile of genealogical info to be found, it’s boring. It’s always nothing but begats. No one ever saves things like what he liked to drink, and whether he was known as a snappy dresser, or what book he preferred. Most everyone is lost, a few were photographed, fewer still left their names on the buildings, and an infinitesimal number of those ever come to life in a way we can appreciate.

Someone got a haircut:


“We’d like to reserve the third floor for people who like to crawl around on their belly.”

As for the rehab on the right, note the brick at the top - it looks like they filled it in. Once a department store or something equally important; now, a pawn shop.

“The Tower’s arrived. I think we got the wrong size.”



The Democrat? I’d say, newspaper.


About the building or the paper, I can find nothing.

“My got-damned twin brother always has to stand on tip-toe when we’re out in public together, and now he’s talking about building a structure right next to mine."


When you want to rehab, but frankly, there’s only so much you can do at this point:



“Calm down, calm down. No one will notice.”


A beautiful little post-office. That’s all.


Simple civic gravitas.

The turret is new; they replaced it a few years ago in a taxpayer-funded renovation.


The building was begun as an investment of two men, P.W. Bininger and William Schleicher. Bininger died unexpectedly on July 7, 1893, with about six months of work left to be done. His widow decided the building should be completed.

“Stop the project, I can’t bear to be reminded!” What else would she have done?

Finally: a nice little surviving bank, whose architect had one motto:


"Never let 'em wonder how to get in the place."