At one time, a walk across the bridge to Harmar would have included the sight of a huge building sitting just off to one side. Sounds of machinery and men’s voices would have emanated from the building, indicating all sorts of activity inside. The smell of coal smoke would waft through the air from the steam train laboriously making its way down the tracks laden with flour. The building was called Phoenix Mill.

1884 Sanborn Map

For many years there was no mill at all at the mouth of the Muskingum and Marietta was reliant upon a mill at Devol’s Dam which ground very slowly. The first mill in Marietta was actually located in Harmar and built in 1811. The first Harmar Mill was organized by David Putnam, William Skinner, Levi Barber, Paul Fearing, Oliver Dodge and Benjamin Gilman. These important men lived in showcase homes in Harmar, some of which still stand today. (Learn more about the Fearing House at wchshistory.org). They built the first mill out of stone, and it was successful for a while, until more modern forms of power came into use. The property was sold to the Marietta Bucket Company in 1847.

Covered bridge across Muskingum

The mill that became Phoenix Mill was located across from Harmar on the Marietta side. It was built in 1838 by John O. Cram. Originally, the land was a shipyard owned by the Marietta Ship Company and composed of John Mills, William and S. Slocomb, Bosworth and Wells, William R. Wells, John O. Cram, and A. T. Nye. They made about 6 ships before business was discontinued. Cram’s mill was then built on the land and was successfully operated for many years. John Oliver Cram was known as a man of great energy and a town leader. He was involved in many projects relating to the improvement of the town when he died at the young age of 48 on Nov 7, 1860.  The firm then became Cram & Conley, and in 1865 changed its name to Conley, Hall & Co. The mill was in the meantime greatly enlarged and improved by the addition of modern machinery. The machinery was driven by water power transmitted by a turbine wheel fifty-two inches in diameter. During seasons of high water, steam was applied.

Pre-1873 Photo of Phoenix Mill

It sat directly above the outlet of ‘Mill Race’ creek that once ran in the alley between Front and Second Street. Mill Race was joined by Goose Creek, which still runs beneath Butler Street today. The mill was of great importance to the town. It predated the bridge across the Muskingum to Harmar and was capable of producing 300 barrels of flour per day and employed 20 men. In 1857, a covered walking bridge to Harmar was built and in 1873 the bridge was converted to rail.

Photo from the Washington County Historical Society

Cram’s Mill, being a large wooden structure, burned 5 times throughout its history, including at least one time by arson, allegedly by William McBride. The building was later renamed ‘Phoenix Mill’. I like to think they renamed it this because it was continually ‘rising from the ashes’.

There were 2 back to back fires at the end of 1912. In October, a fire destroyed most of the building and word was put out that the company was determined to rebuild. After another fire in December destroyed their reconstruction efforts. In January of 1913 there was a large flood, and in March of 1913 the worst flood in Marietta’s history occurred. This flood wiped out the railroad bridge and many other structures in town. There were no further attempts to rebuild Phoenix Mill.

Flood of March 1913

Where the Mill would be located today

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It was May 1 of 1861. A beautiful spring day was closing on the town of Marietta. A door opened on a nice house on Second Street, just above where Scammel Street intersects. A gentleman stepped outside, his appearance orderly and wealthy, and his wife followed him. Evening is a pleasant time for a walk in Marietta. However, on this day in 1861, the tranquil evening was about to turn into violent tragedy.

Davis Green, esquire, was a big man about town: a prominent attorney, wise counselor and trusted Judge. For a man like Judge Green, business wasn’t always complete by the time the sun set in the sky. This evening, he prepared to work a few more hours after he escorted his wife to her father’s home for a visit. They parted ways at the corner of Scammel Street, and Judge Green turned to continue down Second Street to his office. Shots rang out and the good Judge slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely.

Many people heard the shots in the street, and everyone within ear shot ran to see what was going on. Some had even seen where the shots came from, and were quick to notify police that William McBride had shot Judge Green from the second floor of his home on Second Street. Judge Green was a very popular figure in Marietta; he was well-known for helping the unfortunate and was equal and fair as both an attorney and Judge. The man who had shot him was one of his clients, a man who just a year before had been on trial for a big crime.

William McBride was a man that never knew how to help himself. He had a temper which often got the better of him and he had a skewed sense of justice. Instead of blaming himself for mistakes made in the past, he would blame anyone and everyone around him. He was not a popular in town, many people were wary of him way before his shooting of Judge Green. He owned a grocery business at 47 Front Street. In 1860, McBride was a partner at Harmar Mills. There was fierce competition between the flour mill in Harmar and Cram’s Mill in Marietta.

Phoenix Mill, Washington County Historical Society

There had been difficulties between the two towns for years, and in 1837 Harmar broke away from Marietta, forming a separate community. It is unclear what was the original cause of tension; part of it could be that Marietta was made much of as the ‘first settlement of the Northwest Territory’ when in actuality Fort Harmar was established 3 years earlier than the original Ohio Company settlement in 1788.

Whatever the reason for the contempt between the communities, McBride felt extreme loyalty to Harmar Mills, and was often heard to loudly express his feelings about Cram’s Mill in Marietta. In October of 1860, someone crept over the bridge and set Cram’s Mill on fire. It burned to the ground. The obvious suspect for arson was William McBride. Davis Green was McBride’s attorney. Due to the lack of evidence and Green’s excellent representation, William McBride was acquitted of all charges. However, a bitter and resentful McBride did not see that he needed to pay the necessary fees to his attorney. Judge Green sued for payment, and William McBride’s grocery business was declared forfeit. Just as loud as he had been about his hatred for Cram’s Mill, McBride was now as vocal about his hatred for Judge Green. On the day McBride shot Green, the goods from his store were being sold at auction.

McBride’s Dry Goods and Groceries Store on Front Street, Washington County Historical Society

News spreads quickly in a small town, and soon hundreds of townsfolk were surrounding McBride’s house, screaming for justice. Holding lanterns and torches to light the scene, there were shouts of ‘hang him!’ and ‘burn the house!’ McBride was seated in the middle window, pointing his gun out at the crowd and screaming for everyone to keep away.  Marshal Kelly quickly arrived on the scene. McBride yelled at him saying “As much as I respect you and your family, I will shoot you if you attempt to open the door. You will not take me alive!” The Marshal and a team of volunteers lit a fire in the street, to cast light into the house. Two men were stationed in front of the house with loaded guns and ordered to shoot McBride if he moved away from the window. However, by the time the fire was lit, McBride had completely disappeared. Movement was seen for a brief second in the window, and one of the volunteers, a man named Hiram Lewis, shot into the house. He missed his target, and McBride fired at him from the window and shot Lewis in the shoulder. This teased the already angry townsfolk into a complete frenzy. Marshal Kelly knew that he had to get to William McBride before the townspeople had their way.

Forcing open the door to the house, which had been completely blocked by couches, chairs and tables, he and a few armed volunteers made their way into the dark house.  It was hard to see, and difficult to hear due to the commotion outside. On top of that, stones were being thrown in the windows at an attempt to hit McBride. He had planned his murder rationally. Barricades were arranged at the foot of the stairs as well as at the back door and the men had to climb over these with a torch in one hand and a revolver in the other, all while waiting for the killer to emerge at any moment. Halfway up the stairs, three shots rang out. Marshal Kelly, fearing for the lives of the townsfolk outside, leapt up the stairs and began breaking the paneling off the door to McBride’s room. Through the holes they could see that a bed had been pushed up against the door. McBride was lying on the bed. Marshal Kelly grabbed his arms as the other men pushed their way into the room but it was fruitless, McBride was already dead. The shots they heard was the murderer committing suicide.

An investigation of the room turned up vials of arsenic and other poisons, rations for a few days, ammunition and liquor. William McBride had written a note to his wife stating that he meant to kill four men who had ruined his life, and for safe keeping he had sent both his wife and her sister out of town on an errand. A tragic day, in the end the only real tragedy was McBride himself. Both Judge Green and H. Lewis survived the shots they received, though Judge Green would die a year later ‘in the prime of his life and the midst of his influence’, possibly due to the wounds caused by the shooting.

Cram’s Mill was rebuilt and became known as ‘Phoenix Mill’. More on Phoenix Mill next month!

Trivia: Does anyone know where Phoenix Mill was once located?

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At the corner of Front & Greene Streets sits a grand, steam-boat era hotel. The Lafayette Hotel will turn 100 years old in July this year, but hospitality on that corner goes much further back.  In the hallway just off of the Gun Room Restaurant, there is an array of beautiful old photos showcasing the Lafayette corner throughout the years.

The Mansion House Hotel was once located where the Hoag Extension of the Lafayette sits today. Built in 1835, the Mansion House was known for its ‘fine accommodations’ and excellent food. During the 102 years in which the building stood, it went from a high-class hotel to a boarding house. But always it was used to welcome Marietta’s guests. The Mansion House had many names throughout the years, being known as the Scott Hotel, Bradford Hotel, Clay City Hotel and, in its final incarnation, The St. Charles Hotel. The building, once entertaining the cream of Marietta society during balls and dinners, was in a decrepit state when sold to the Marietta Hotel Company in 1937. Being a notable and historic local structure, plans were made by the company to renovate and incorporate it into the Lafayette’s expansion plans. Sadly, this was not to be, as the building’s situation was deemed irreparable. It went down in 1937, with remnants such as the old call bell system being saved and put on display inside the Lafayette Hotel.

Before the Lafayette Hotel was built, there existed another hotel in its place. In 1892 a hotel rose beside the Mansion House, commanding one of the most beautiful views in Marietta. The hotel was aptly named ‘Bellevue’ and was a showpiece for a Marietta in the midst of economic prosperity. Original plans of the hotel placed the entrance on Ohio Street, instead of Front Street, a great indicator of the importance Ohio Street once played in Marietta’s old business district. Inside the Bellevue 5 sample rooms could be found (places for traveling merchants to display their wares for local merchants to purchase); the Bellevue even had its own Barber shop.

A grand staircase in the lobby led to an elegant restaurant overlooking the Ohio River on the second floor, in addition to a few deluxe suites. A kitchen was also located in the back of the second floor. A large suite of rooms faced Front Street and had a small balcony attached. This balcony came in useful during the 1913 flood, as johnboats filled with patrons used the balcony to access the bar that had been opened on the second floor. The worst flood in Marietta’s history did not stop the party at the Bellevue!

There were no private bathrooms located in the hotel originally, each floor had bathroom and toilet facilities available to all the guests. However, by 1906, a few deluxe rooms did incorporate private bathrooms. The Bellevue had 56 rooms and utilized an electric call bell system. The rates were around $2-3 per day, including meals.

Unfortunately, the Bellevue burnt down in 1916, after an accidental fire started in a storage room on the top floor. It was a windy day, and the fire quickly spread. The Lafayette Hotel was built in the ruined foundations of the Bellevue Hotel and opened in July of 1918.

Mr. S. Durward Hoag, a long-time manager of the Lafayette Hotel and prolific writer, local historian and photographer, claimed that hospitality on the Lafayette corner went back even before the Mansion House was built in 1835. In 1788, a tavern was built at the ‘Picketed Point’, near where the Lafayette now stands. That would mean visitors to Marietta have been welcomed at the Lafayette corner since the founding of the town.

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With charming Victorian mansions looming over quaint brick streets, it is hard to imagine that this town was once a booming and vibrant city. People from all kinds of backgrounds wandered the streets, especially down in the business district. Many different accents and languages would have been heard as Irish and German immigrant families climbed down off of steamboats to build a new life in Marietta and Washington County. The Ohio River was the most important and fastest way to travel at the time and it brought other, less permanent, people into town as well. Steamboats were often staffed by young, single men. They worked away from home for months at a time, had money in their pockets and were ready for a good time. Being so close to the river, Ohio Street and Historic Harmar were the fun places to be for these transient workers. After the Civil War, oil and gas production turned Marietta into a boom town and suddenly transient railroaders, steamboat workers and oilmen became a huge and important source of income for many businesses. Hotels sprang up to house them, the number of restaurants and saloons doubled and tripled, and of course women of an independent mindset from ‘virtuous’ Victorian women soon arrived to entertain the men as well.

At times, it even gave the papers cause for merriment, showcasing how widespread prostitution had become and reads like something out of the Wild West.

It is hard to say exactly how many brothels operated in Marietta, as it was one of those things that existed but was, for the most part, ignored. In Census Records, no Lady of the Evening was going to list her occupation as a ‘prostitute’; instead they often reported that they were laundresses, or seamstresses, something that many of them did before earning a higher wage as a prostitute. So if a group of ‘laundresses’ or ‘seamstresses’ were reported living together on a census, it is possible that the house actually served a very different purpose. Another thing that makes it difficult to identify brothels was that the house actually doubled as the private home of the Madame. Saloons, theatres and gambling houses often also operated a brothel onsite or nearby, but there were also private homes that had prostitutes living and working on the second floor of the home. Nan Hayes, a 35 year old woman, operated such a brothel out of her home in Harmar in 1881.

The C.C. Thomas Saloon, where the Harmar Tavern now sits.

Though never truly an accepted occupation in Victorian times, it was often easier ignored than corrected. At times, it even gave the papers cause for merriment, showcasing how widespread prostitution had become and reads like something out of the Wild West. For example, in 1866 a local Marietta newspaper reported that two ‘bawds’ and ‘notorious women of the town’ engaged in a desperate fight. The two women, who are even named in the article as Kate King and Mary McCoy, started their fight out in the street with brickbats, before chasing each other into Gerkin’s Grocery Store (once located on the corner of Gilman and Fort Street). Once inside, Mary brandished a large knife and struck out at anyone getting in the way. Kate immediately pulled a revolver from her stockings and stated she would make daylight shine through Mary’s carcass “if she didn’t mind”. Seeing she was at a disadvantage, Mary slowly backed down and the situation eased, for the time being.

Ohio Street along the Ohio River.

The article makes no mention of this being a ‘once in a lifetime event’ and seems nonchalant in its reporting of it, indicating that sights like this may once have been quite common in certain areas of the city. So as you enjoy a delicious dinner at the Levee House café, or wander through the pleasant shops of Historic Harmar Village, stop and remember a time when the streets were a little more boisterous, a little more dangerous and very different from what we see today.

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