Unauthorized!

I've mentioned before that when I visit the Richfield Historical Society on Tuesday mornings, there are usually people from the village dropping in. And that because Richfield is a small town and most of the families have been there forever, most of the people turn out to have some connection with Crowell Hilaka.

What I haven't mentioned before is that most of the men of a certain age grin sheepishly - then admit to having having snuck in. Or at least trying to. No names to be revealed - just historic trends.

One elderly gentleman liked to sneak over at night while the Kirbys still lived there. He liked to stop the millwheel from turning with his bare hands and then see how long it would take to start up again. Another guy confessed that he and his buddies would ride their bikes over to the camp before there was a fence, creep up to a tent unit, and make scarey animal noises. They considered it a triumph if they could get the girls to scream. Then they'd peel out on their bikes before getting caught. (I told that guy that he owed us. He agreed.)

All that changed once the fence was up. Today's informant liked slipping into the tank proving grounds on a regular basis. But he made it a point to check through the fence to see if there were any girls in view. Sometimes the girls were already up at the fence already, and they would talk. This was in the late 1950's and early 60's. I have never been able to pinpoint WHEN the fence was installed. But by getting rough dates and correlating them with the degree of male sneakage, it had to have been put up between the mid 1940's to late 1950's. The fence is so unusually heavy-duty for a GS camp even now, let alone fifty years ago. My guess is that it went up when the proving grounds came in. I would not be suprised to find out that it was paid for by the proving ground people - either the military or GM - as a condition of being able to locate so close to a girls' camp. But that's just my theory.

Today's informant spoke at length about the tank testing operations: The proving grounds were located in what is now Rising Valley Park. The entrance was on Newton instead of Oviatt. The tanks were built at the GM plant in Cleveland (now the I-X Center) and tested in Richfield because of the hilly terrain. At one point the tanks went down a hill into a creek. The water got to six feet deep and the tanks had to go all the way under and emerge on the opposite hillside without stopping.

Addendum to the apple story: When I told my dad about Neal Fruit Farm, he said when he was a kid during the second world war, he and the other kids in Bedford would get taken on a YMCA bus down to Richfield to pick fruit during the summer and on weekends. All the men were at war and even migrant workers weren't enough. He wasn't at Neal's himself, but somewhere nearby. The amazing thing? Not that Dad picked fruit, but that my own FATHER turns out to be one of the folks with an old-time Richfield Connection!

Apple Trees and Civil War Soldiers

The part of our camp that we are allowed to use was once a fruit farm.   The Neals ( who built the fancy houses)  ran the Neal Fruit Farm as a sideline.  The Giant Eagle next store started out as the Neal's "Country Counter".  In the mid 1800's, well before the Neals, it was the Freeman Fruit Farm, one of the largest orchards in Ohio.  Mrs. Freeman was the daughter of Nathaniel Oviatt, one of the first pioneer settlers in the village.  

So.....how did it all start?  I was wondering if there may have been a connection with Johnny Appleseed  (yes, he was a real person).   But altho Johnny may have made some contribution,  he worked mostly in the Massillon area when he was in Ohio.  The Freeman fruit came came from somewhere else - probably right next door.  

The land that the camp's long drive crosses has had some interesting owners.  The first recorded owner (1834 tax map) was Isaac Welton, Revolutionary War veteran and fruit farmer.  It was his family that carried varieties of Connecticut apples by covered wagon to Richfield.   From these, their family grew what became known as the Richfield Nonesuch Apple and the Welton Pie Apple.  These varieties were well enough known to be described in a mid-nineteeth century English booklet on American apples.   

The Richfield Nonesuch was very much a local claim to fame.   But it was small and tart,  and fell out of favor with large growers. I was in the Richfield Historical Society last week reading about how interest in the Nonesuch revived from time to time.  And each time, a few cuttings  of the historic trees were carefully grafted and nourished.  I mentioned to Linda that it would be cool to see one.  "Oh, c'mon then," she said. "I'm just about to lock up and get some lunch".  I tagged along with her across the street and into the neighbor's yard.  There were trees loaded with every color of apple.  "This one" she pointed out a tree loaded with bright pink and yellow apples.  We both munched into the Richfield Nonesuch.  Historic Research: Delicious!  

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Back in the archive after lunch, Linda told me about some college undergrad coming in to research a couple of Civil War soldiers who were brothers.  Both died during the conflict, but one had kept a diary.  After his death, the family had the diary published.  The soldier's name was John Oviatt.  The name didn't ring a bell to me.  Not a surprise - considering that there were probably several hundred Ovaitt's in NE Ohio at the time.  But I poked through the introduction.    Lo, John's parents were Nathaniel & Julie - which made him the brother of Ruth Oviatt Freeman.   Yup, that's OUR girl!