Tuesday, April 29, 2025

Licking County Courthouse - West Courtroom

Licking County Courthouse - West Courtroom

A Cleveland architect, H.E. Meyer, designed our fourth courthouse in 1876, after our 1832 Greek Revival structure burned down in 1875. He laid out a Second Empire style on the exterior, then popular, echoing the transformation of Paris between 1850 and 1870 into the city we know today of broad boulevards and striking public buildings like the Paris Opera. Inside, though, his touch was light.

Our west courtroom for some twenty-five years was similar to the courtrooms on the first floor, steel framing for flat ceilings with pressed tin panels. By 1903, there was growing interest in having a more finished main courtroom, but county finances were tight. Needed repairs on the ceilings of the second floor, however, opened up the possibility of some aesthetic refinement, and Nov. 9, 1903 the county commissioners's journal records "It was further decided by said committee to change 6 panels in ceiling of Court room from steel to plastering."

They also contracted with a local firm, "Pratt & Montgomery to furnish wood finishings in Court room as per specifications for $623.25." This was the beginning of what would become the West Courtroom as we know it. It becomes clear from later payments that the commissioners on or after Nov. 9 selected W.J. Harper & Son as lead contractor for the "Court room" project, but I did not find that stated directly in the journals.

By Mar. 14, 1904, though, "In the matter of remodeling the Court room /
In view of the fact that the Building fund is now overdrawn, be it therefore resolved that no new contract be entered into to complete Court Room repairs, and no outstanding contracts to commence, unless in the judgment of the Commissioners such work is necessary to protect work already done, until funds are available for such work." All three commissioners vote "Yea."

However, since October 1903, they had been purchasing piecemeal, on a square foot basis, round stained glass medallions from Kyle Art Glass of Springfield, Ohio. By July of 1904 they have installed four, and the plastered, coffered ceiling is done, but the vast expanses of walls and ceiling are largely empty.

In the Commissioners's journal for June 26, 1905 [pg. 82] "On motion a contract was awarded August Roeder [of Toledo] to construct Floor in Court Room as per specifications. Contract price — $472.00" [There are a number of other items of county business, then…]

"On motion a contract was awarded Bryant Brothers of Columbus Ohio to Decorate Court room as per plans and specifications attached to contract / work to be done in [all?/full?] contract price — $1910.00"

That amount would be about $68,000 in 2025 dollars.

The next line in the journal says: "On motion a contract was awarded August Roeder for items following work in Court room as per Plans and specifications… [then follows some detail under three headings as to wood work, marble, and something electrical] — total $765.00."

Calling Bryant Brothers of Columbus, Ohio was a significant step towards the West Courtroom we see today. A "History of Ohio" written some twenty years later reports on "the Bryant Brothers Company, decorators in fresco, an organization of the highest artistic merits and one whose clientele and patronage are by no means consigned to Columbus. The Bryants have done some of the finest mural and other interior decorative work in the Middle West."

This 1925 account continues: "After finishing his schooling W.C. Bryant took up the business of interior decorator and has devoted forty years of his life to that occupation. His partner is Charles L. Bryant, and they established a business at Canton, Ohio but for the past ten years their headquarters have been in Columbus. They have executed commissions for interior decoration in many of the states of the Union."

I found this section of great interest: "Few people know that the very popular indirect lighting system originated with the Bryant Brothers, letters patent having been issued to W.C. Bryant for important elements in the art of reflected lighting. This line has been so expanded and developed that the American Reflex Lighting Company with W.C. Bryant as president has recently been incorporated, and the business has become a distinctive one with many branches in other cities."

One point I had hoped to clear up in these researches was how the decision was made to place the oculus, echoing Rome's Pantheon, in the center of the West Courtroom ceiling. I am still puzzled how no specific reference to this made it into the commissioners's journals. But it seems likely that this was an option presented and put into place by the Bryant Brothers, for whom electrical work and indirect illumination was already a part of their business at a time when many contractors had barely begun to work with this then-new technology.

More crucially for our overall understanding of the room's art, the historical entry concludes: "The Bryants have had many years of expert experience in interior decoration work. Their artistic taste combined with their ability to direct and organize a corps of artists efficient have enabled them to broaden their business to one of national importance. Their most extensive work has been designers of interiors for many of the noted cathedrals and larger churches. They have been fortunate in combining artistic talent with financial resources to develop such an extensive business and to it they have given their best endeavors."

What the Bryant Brothers did was assemble the artisans, and supervise the final decoration of a space, whether a cathedral in Cleveland or a courtroom in Newark. They did not do the detail work: they had "a corps of artists" on which they could draw, which extended not just over Ohio, or even across the United States, but likely around the world.

There are at least three artisans whose work graces the West Courtroom, almost certainly four, beyond the Kyle Art Glass installed before Bryant Brothers were brought on board. First, for the murals on the ceiling: Adèle Bassi is a Swiss artist, buried with her parents Ansemle and Rosine Boni in a dramatically designed monument with her uncle, Rinaldo Rossi, who helped engineer the Simplon Tunnel, whose opening is recreated in massive scale as a frame for their shared resting place in Switzerland.

Records for her are few and unclear, but one account says she "studied and worked in Italy for most of her adult life, where she appears to have earned a livelihood selling to the tourist trade highly skilled copies of Old Master paintings then on view in the major Italian city galleries and museums. Recently, a signed work by Bassi bearing the inscription "Picture Gallery, Mme. Bassi, Peinture / Angiolo (Carlo) Dolci, Uffizi Gallery, Florence" was offered at auction, providing some indication of the nature of her artistic work when in Florence and Italy more generally." Also on another Bassi painting reverse is the inscription: "Picture Gallery, Mme. A. Bassi, Peinter, 15 Borgognissanti 15, Florence" and "Angiolo (Carlo Dolci), Uffizi Gallery, Florence." She may have had a studio in New York for a time, or possibly just an agent for her commissions there, while she lived a substantial portion of her life in Florence. Circumstances of the implied Mr. Bassi are unknown, as is the year of her death, which was at some point after 1910.

On the south wall, two panels also applied as murals painted elsewhere, are signed and clearly the work of John Franklin Douthitt, an artist born in Illinois but whose professional career is unambiguously based in New York City, on Fifth Avenue, for the years between 1880 and 1908. A painter and tapestry maker, he ran a school of art in Manhattan, and was much in demand as an interior decorator himself. Born in 1856, on his death in 1945 he is buried in the famous Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Westchester County up the Hudson River from New York.

Our third signed artist of this space is Ludwig Bang. Like Douthitt, Bang is a temptation to digression because we almost know too much about him: born in northeastern Germany on the Baltic coast in 1857, he came to America after studies in Munich and Paris to visit the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago during 1893, and moved shortly afterwards to Toledo, where he developed a diverse clientele in a variety of painting circumstances, from theatre curtain scenes to murals in restaurants and book illustrations. With the growth of anti-German sentiment before World War I, he returned home in 1914 to become a noted muralist and history painter in his native land. He would die in 1944 as war raged around him, and is buried in a place of honor in Bad Doberan, his birthplace.

Unsigned, but clearly by his hand, are the portrait medallions painted directly onto the plaster walls of the West Courtroom; these start with the martyred presidents of that era, Lincoln to the left of the bench as the jury, trial participants, and audience would see it, and McKinley to the right. It was the placement of McKinley in parallel with Lincoln that began this project, looking in records after 1901, since before that date it would be highly unusual for anyone, even in Ohio, to put McKinley on a par with Lincoln. It is that theme of assassinated leaders that probably led to the misidentification of the president behind the jury, Grant, as Garfield, though both are deceased by the time Bang painted these three and the state seal onto the walls in 1905. On Nov. 7, 1905 the Newark American Tribune prints an article about the beauty of the West Courtroom as being comparable to a fine museum on the East Coast, or even in Europe, and states "the work should be completed within the next two weeks." The anonymous reporter describes the portraits of Lincoln & McKinley flanking the bench, and misidentifies Grant as Garfield on the north wall. So I take this contemporary account as being of interest, but with caution: they say the figures overhead in the Bassi ceiling murals are Music & Art in the northwest corner, Commerce in the northeast, Science in the southeast, and Industry in the southwest.

Nearing the end of the work, the Commissioners's journal of Jan. 2, 1906 [pg. 159] has a line "Bryant Bros. / 2 East wall panels — $200." These are clearly Ludwig Bang's two angel paintings. The procedural mind will recall that the commission to the Bryants was "to Decorate Court room as per plans and specifications attached to contract / work to be done in [all?/full?] contract price" but anyone who has worked with a project such as these know there's always a few late additions that go over the budget, and these are carefully negotiated.

What we don't know is how or if the Bryants made proposals for two more bas reliefs, or additional panels, and were told "don't even ask." The work has been clearly somewhat "unfinished" for 120 years; even aspects of the Bassi & Douthitt murals may be presented "as is" and not in an entirely completed form. We will likely never know if the two paintings signed by Bang behind the bench were specifically imagined for that location, or if they were what he had which would fit; I obviously like the idea of the former, and have written at length on the details within each painting telling something about both Bang's journey to that point, and where the country was at, with evocations of Winslow Homer and the Louvre's Winged Victory out of Greece creating layers of storytelling in a small space.

But it was time to conclude. The courtroom was being put into use with the new year, 1906, thirty years after the building itself had been built. One last time to the Commissioners's journal, for Feb. 5, 1906, and a mundane entry along with many to provide for work on roads, bridges, and culverts around Licking County. The county commissioners approve a cleaning contract for the "new part of Court House" which will include the Jury Room & entry area for janitorial services, with the following cautionary note: "I hereby certify that funds are now in process of collection or are already in County Treasury and cannot be appropriated for another purpose. J.N. Wright, Auditor." What funds there were left no room for additional finery, and it would have to be enough for about another 120 years.

I mentioned a fourth artisan in the West Courtroom, whose name I had hoped to confirm: the sculptor of the busts high above the room, somewhat alternating with the art glass roundels, Clay and Webster above the bench. We don't have a definitive answer to this question, but a possible one can be found if you go back down to the first floor, and turn aside a mat in front of the rotunda desk.

There, in the black and white tiles, speckled with ancient fossils if you look closely at them, is a central tile which has skillfully inset these words: "P.C. Reniers Pittsburg PA" — the craftsman who cut and laid this ornamental flooring. He arrived in Pittsburg (as it was spelled then) in 1851 and had an active business there until his death in 1894. In his obituary material, it is said quite emphatically that he was a skilled sculptor, particularly in demand for marble busts, which were in many homes and public places around the city, and that there were many left in his workshop on his passing.

Is it possible, even before the decorating project for the West Courtroom began in earnest ten years later, the busts we see today were by the hand of Peter Reiniers? He could have sold them as he did the first floor work years before, and they might have been on display around the courthouse in years between, or they could have been purchased from his estate. Lacking a carved signature, we will not know.

So many hands, brought together from around the county: Pratt & Montgomery, W.J. Harper and Son; other Ohioans like Kyle Art Glass in Springfield, August Roeder's workshop out of Toledo, the Bryant Brothers of Canton and Columbus . . . then the wider range of Ludwig Bang, John F. Douthitt, and Adèle Bassi, evoking Germany and Paris and Florence, plus P.C. Reniers of Pittsburg . . . all to bring us a room where justice can rule, surrounded not just by artistic beauty, but with object civic lessons, some of them obvious, and others which challenge us to ask more and deeper questions about how we got here, today.

West courtroom re-dedication May 1, 2025

West courtroom re-dedication May 1, 2025

William Stanbery, was born in Essex County, New Jersey, on August 10th in 1788; he died at 84 in Newark, on January 23rd, 1873. Having read for the law in New York City with Judge Nathaniel Pendleton, who was Alexander Hamilton's second in the famous duel with Aaron Burr in 1804, Stanbery came to Ohio in 1809. He served in the state senate in 1824 & 1825 then was elected, in 1827, to the US Congress as a Jacksonian House candidate. He later won reelection as an anti-Jacksonian candidate and served in Congress until 1833.

In 1832 he made accusatory remarks in the House chamber regarding Sam Houston and Jacksonian rations contracts for Native Americans. Houston, a big man himself, both of them something over six feet tall, later met Stanbery on a Washington DC street; shouting turned into a fight and Houston beat our man with his hickory cane. Congressman Stanbery allegedly attempted to shoot Houston but his pistol misfired. In a trial before Congress, Houston was found guilty but thanks to his lawyer, Francis Scott Key, the former Tennessee congressman was lightly reprimanded. For his part in the controversy, the Ohio Congressman was censured by the Speaker of the House for use of "unparliamentary language," effectively ending his electoral career. His half-brother Henry Stanbery was Ohio's first Attorney-General, and after the end of the Civil War became U.S. Attorney General, arguing in the Supreme Court case known today as "Ex parte Milligan" and successfully defending Andrew Johnson in the first presidential impeachment trial before the U.S. Senate.

But William Stanbery focused his skills closer to home. As described in the words of distinguished Licking County jurist & Civil War veteran Judge Charles Kibler, at a 1906 bar association meeting, looking back over half a century earlier:

"When I came here in 1851, the prominent lawyers were [and he lists] William Stanbery, [first, with four other notables of that era] Samuel D. King, George B. Smythe, Henry D. Sprague and Lucius Case.

Wm. Stanbery was a man of large body, large mind, great voice and a very sonorous laugh. He was not a polished man, like his half brother, Henry Stanbery. He was a great admirer of the common law, and particularly opposed to statutory law. He was the finest conversationalist I ever knew. He was argumentative and disputatious. He delighted upon public questions to take the other side. He came to town from Oakwood [his rustic but palatial home on the far east edge of Newark] about twice a week, stopping at the office of Stanbery and Kibler. I recall one morning when he came in, he saw a modest young man, a student in the office. Seeing him, he roared out to him, "Well, sir, what are you doing here?" The young man answered "I am beginning the study of law." The old man in his loudest voice said "Well, sir, why don't you pursue some honest business?" . . . and then came the loud laugh."

He was a lawyer in Newark for sixty-four years.

=+=+=+=

Samuel McFadden Hunter, born in 1838 in Cadiz, Harrison County, Ohio; died Feb. 20th, 1907 (aged 68–69)

Judge Samuel Hunter we know of in large part because of a book by his son & fellow jurist Robbins Hunter, father in turn of Robbins Hunter, Jr. whose museum graces Broadway in Granville. But the family roots are found in Newark, and they go deep into Courthouse Square, or "The Public Square" as it was often called in Newark's first century. Samuel Hunter's son says in "The Judge Rode a Sorrel Horse" many things about the extended Robbins & Hunter families in the east end of Newark, of his father's circuit riding efforts across this county & beyond to establish the rule of law in early Ohio, and about his ties to both this and the previous courthouse, the third located here before the fourth one in which we sit today:

"The old courthouse stood in the center of the public square. This building, erected in 1832, was of Greek Revival design. It was two stories high and had six stone columns at the east and west fronts, and was in much better taste than the present building, erected after the fire in 1875."

The first time I saw that line, I had to re-read it twice. Wait, is he saying . . . "In much better taste"? Well, hold on until page 62, when he starts describing Judge Samuel Hunter's stern but engaging demeanor, and his formal style of dress, beginning with his Prince Albert coat and silk top hat.

"He was extremely erect, and made a very outstanding appearance. He was prominent in the affairs of the town, and when the new courthouse was built in 1876 he made a speech at the laying of the cornerstone. This building is an outstanding example of the hideous architecture of the Seventies. At that time elevators were unheard of, but apparently would not have been desired anyway. The saving of steps was no part of the scheme of things. People were so fond of stairs in those days that they even went out of their way to work them in, and an elevator would have been considered a useless extravagance."

Given that Robbins Hunter, Sr. was born in 1880, I'm guessing his views here were inherited from his father, a strong aesthetic feeling about this now much beloved building in our county's center!

But for an adequate summary of Judge Samuel Hunter and his son, Judge Robbins Hunter, I look to their gravestones at Cedar Hill Cemetery, close together, and in between them and their spouses that of Robbins Hunter, Jr., our honoree's grandson. This third generation Hunter gave us the Robbins Hunter Museum in Granville, and other bequests to the Licking County Historical Society, not least of which is the row of historic houses we have today on Sixth Street. His marker is identical to his father & grandfather's in being simply a name & two dates, but subtly, on the vertical face of this headstone, close to the ground and easy to miss, are added four words: "I loved Licking County." In that inheritance, he speaks for his ancestors, for it is clear: Judge Samuel Hunter loved Licking County.

Monday, April 28, 2025

Faith Works 5-2-2025

Faith Works 5-2-2025
Jeff Gill

The imperatives of funeral customs, then & now
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Most of what happened around the death and subsequent funeral services for Pope Francis had a traditional ring to them.

Obviously, when the pope dies in Rome, tradition has much to say about how everything is handled (and yes, I've watched "Conclave"). But I'm thinking more of the whole sequence of how Francis died on Monday, had "calling hours" for three days, and a funeral followed by committal within the week.

Increasingly, this is not common anymore. As a parish minister, for many years, there was a sequence you kept in mind the moment you learned of a death, thinking through the days ahead, but the factors were a) where Sunday fell, because no one did funerals on Sundays, and b) plus or minus a couple of days at most. A death on Monday, especially if earlier in the day, could mean a meeting at the funeral home on Tuesday, then calling on Wednesday or Thursday or Friday, and the funeral and graveside on Thursday or Friday, with a Friday calling and Saturday funeral possible, but involving multiple complications (starting with extra charges for weekends, plus some cemeteries not open on Saturday at all).

Behind that decades long pattern was the urgency represented by the corpse. Even with embalming, there were and are practical limits to how long you could stretch out the process. And everyone, from employers to airlines, understood the pressure of time around those imperatives.

Those aren't gone, but they're much less often an issue because of the sea change in cultural acceptance of cremation. I hear different figures but in general what was under 5% of all deaths when I was a seminarian in the 1980s is up to 40% or even past 50% today. In some demographics, it's over 75%.

I've written before about this issue, the resulting increase in "homeless cremains." Urns and more often just the black boxes with heavy vinyl bags of ashes, left on shelves or in closets, and some family member ultimately left to ask "what should I do with these?" It's a topic I'm likely to come back to, as often as I get asked about it.

But more to the point here is the change in schedules, and logistics, and overall assumptions around memorial services when death is rapidly followed by cremation, no "viewing" (a subject on which there are many views, many opposed but some pastoral questions about how that obstructs the grieving process), and a celebration of life "event" at a point to be determined . . . later.

Clergy and morticians alike have noted the steady pressure towards Saturday services, and while a few religious traditions still maintain an absolute bar to Sunday funerals, the expectation that a Sunday afternoon funeral can be accommodated is high. I went thirty years never being asked; the first time it came up, the funeral home was already locked in, and family flight schedules were being made. So I did so, and found myself doing quite a few more in subsequent years.

To be blunt, funeral practices will not be rewinding back to "how we used to do it." The whole apparatus of caskets and vaults and plots and markers has moved into a price point where many families that might want to have a "regular funeral" can't afford to do one. Cremation will continue to be a new normal, and there's a case to be made for it on practical as well as financial grounds; some families hold out for a viewing, and cremation after using a "rental casket" for the calling.

What does concern me pastorally is how often deferred memorial services simply never happen. And the opportunity to come together as family, friends, and community is lost. We caught a hint of what that can mean at the funeral of Pope Francis.



Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's made his funeral plans and suggests you do the same. Tell him what you know you don't want at yours at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads or Bluesky.