Notes from my Knapsack 9-11-2025
Jeff Gill
Monuments larger than buildings
___
Over the summer months, I've thought many times as I would drive and walk past the Buxton Inn about what can be said of Orville and Audrey Orr.
They got in about a decade of retirement after 42 years of inn-keeping here on East Broadway. We lost them both, and their daughter Melanie, in just a few weeks' time over late May and the beginning of June. Today the Buxton awaits new ownership and many of us hope a new opening day, after over two centuries of operation. Orville and Audrey "only" took responsibility for the last four decades and change, but for most of us in Granville today, they are the only hosts their we ever knew.
I had the privilege of sharing a small piece of that experience with them, mostly Orville, during their last decade at the Buxton Inn. The convention and visitor's bureau had recruited me to serve as a "step on" guide for buses that were coming, a great many of them from Canada, to do local tours. The most common was to meet the tour bus at the Cherry Valley Hotel, and before the highway closed off Cherry Valley Road, we'd roll north, up to Newark-Granville Road, into the village past Bryn Du and the Granville Inn, turning up Pearl St. to the "back entrance" of Denison University, up and around Swasey Chapel and Beth Eden, down "The Drag" (oh it would be so much easier today!), to the Four Corners noting the historic stump, and back to park at the Buxton Inn where the busload would disembark for lunch.
Orville took over there, and depending on timing would walk them through, sometimes into the cellar and back up the narrow steps, and the deal was that I did the history, Orville did the ghosts. He loved the ghost stories, but he delighted in my assertions, thinly sourced, that Johnny Appleseed slept in the cellar when it was a livestock barn open to the rear courtyard in the years just after 1812. We agreed it couldn't be proven, but it was entirely likely.
Sometimes, the bus tours would be delayed, and we'd sit at the bar in the back or in the greenhouse and tell stories. Orville and Audrey had met at Bible college, he'd been a minister and she a music minister early in their marriage, then both teachers and he a principal. We'd talk about faith and education and ghosts and things past and things yet to come. He was always smiling, and I suspect his guests remembered him that way as well.
Perhaps their daughter Amy or some other family member has tried to do the math on how many guests they served over the years. Tens, even hundreds of thousands in sum, most of which saw either Audrey or Orville or both during their stay, let alone those who just came for a meal but wandered into the lobby and ended up talking to one or both.
The Orrs were the face of Granville to those thousands, carrying that image back to their homes, in Canada, across the United States, and not a few far beyond this continent. They represented us, and made us look good. I wonder now how many come to Granville because of a second- or third-hand sense of the hospitality we offer here, which is rooted in a visit someone made years ago to our place set apart.
Blessings on their memory, on Orville and Audrey and Melanie Orr, and the memories they made for so many of Granville as we hope to be at our very, very best.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he and Orville traded preacher stories, you can be sure. Tell him your memories of the Orrs at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads or Bluesky.
Jeff Gill
Monuments larger than buildings
___
Over the summer months, I've thought many times as I would drive and walk past the Buxton Inn about what can be said of Orville and Audrey Orr.
They got in about a decade of retirement after 42 years of inn-keeping here on East Broadway. We lost them both, and their daughter Melanie, in just a few weeks' time over late May and the beginning of June. Today the Buxton awaits new ownership and many of us hope a new opening day, after over two centuries of operation. Orville and Audrey "only" took responsibility for the last four decades and change, but for most of us in Granville today, they are the only hosts their we ever knew.
I had the privilege of sharing a small piece of that experience with them, mostly Orville, during their last decade at the Buxton Inn. The convention and visitor's bureau had recruited me to serve as a "step on" guide for buses that were coming, a great many of them from Canada, to do local tours. The most common was to meet the tour bus at the Cherry Valley Hotel, and before the highway closed off Cherry Valley Road, we'd roll north, up to Newark-Granville Road, into the village past Bryn Du and the Granville Inn, turning up Pearl St. to the "back entrance" of Denison University, up and around Swasey Chapel and Beth Eden, down "The Drag" (oh it would be so much easier today!), to the Four Corners noting the historic stump, and back to park at the Buxton Inn where the busload would disembark for lunch.
Orville took over there, and depending on timing would walk them through, sometimes into the cellar and back up the narrow steps, and the deal was that I did the history, Orville did the ghosts. He loved the ghost stories, but he delighted in my assertions, thinly sourced, that Johnny Appleseed slept in the cellar when it was a livestock barn open to the rear courtyard in the years just after 1812. We agreed it couldn't be proven, but it was entirely likely.
Sometimes, the bus tours would be delayed, and we'd sit at the bar in the back or in the greenhouse and tell stories. Orville and Audrey had met at Bible college, he'd been a minister and she a music minister early in their marriage, then both teachers and he a principal. We'd talk about faith and education and ghosts and things past and things yet to come. He was always smiling, and I suspect his guests remembered him that way as well.
Perhaps their daughter Amy or some other family member has tried to do the math on how many guests they served over the years. Tens, even hundreds of thousands in sum, most of which saw either Audrey or Orville or both during their stay, let alone those who just came for a meal but wandered into the lobby and ended up talking to one or both.
The Orrs were the face of Granville to those thousands, carrying that image back to their homes, in Canada, across the United States, and not a few far beyond this continent. They represented us, and made us look good. I wonder now how many come to Granville because of a second- or third-hand sense of the hospitality we offer here, which is rooted in a visit someone made years ago to our place set apart.
Blessings on their memory, on Orville and Audrey and Melanie Orr, and the memories they made for so many of Granville as we hope to be at our very, very best.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he and Orville traded preacher stories, you can be sure. Tell him your memories of the Orrs at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads or Bluesky.