If you happen to find yourself in Newark, Ohio, I recommend a look at the Licking County courthouse, a Second Empire structure from the grand age of U.S. courthouses, which was between the wars (that is, the Civil War and WWI).
Even though our visit coincided with exterior construction that mars its appearance temporarily, and a wicked cold wind, I knew I had to park the car and get out for a look.
Impressive. The visit to Newark was a digression. The most direct route from Columbus, Ohio to Uniontown, Pa. doesn’t pass through Newark, which is maybe 20 miles north of I-70 and U.S. 40 both. But we had a sight in mind there, so we made the detour, arriving in that large town (pop. 50,000) on the morning of March 19. As you’d think, the main road into town leads directly to the courthouse square.
Some county seats have intriguing buildings facing their courthouses, some don’t. Licking County, Ohio does.
A closer look at that last one.
Wow, an unexpected trove of details.
We’d stumbled upon the Home Building Association Co. bank building (with nickname The Old Home right above the door), a work by Chicago School patriarch Louis Sullivan, dating from 1914. The exterior has been nicely restored, but I could see peering through the windows that work is still underway inside. I understand that the building now belongs to the Licking County Foundation, and will eventually house the county’s convention and visitors bureau.
Notes Wiki: “The ornamentation included a winged lion quite similar to the ones to be found in Cedar Rapids, Grinnell and Sidney. Little mention is made in the literature about Sullivan as to why these creatures populate his banks. Also unique is the presence of Sullivan’s name in the tile mosaic over the front door.”
Yep, there it is. I didn’t notice when I was standing out in the cold.
Underfoot detail at the courthouse square speaks of a time of stronger faith in progress. Or at least when slogans had that faith.
Even so, Newark seems to abide, economically speaking. The U.S. industrial economy contracted, but it didn’t disappear. A sizably lighting products maker and a glass manufacturer run operations here, as do a welter of smaller factories across the county. Regional offices of larger banking and insurance companies are here, and OSU has a large regional campus in Newark as well.
About a block away from the square is the former sheriff’s residence and county jail, in a suitably sturdy Richardson Romanesque edifice. One Joseph W. Yost designed it.
A plaque outside the building told a story of mob violence – against an officer of the law, no less – from the early 20th century. The plaque’s a good deal newer than that, however. RIP, Deputy Marshal Etherington.
The backs of nearby buildings – mostly facing the square – feature history-themed murals in places that would otherwise be drab parking lots. Nice civic touch, Newark.
As interesting as downtown Newark turned out to be, that wasn’t actually the reason we came to town. This building was.
On the outskirts of Newark stands the seven-story former headquarters of the Longaberger Co., which used to make baskets whose look inspired the look of the building, and not in any abstract sense. They were sold via a multi-level marketing scheme.
The building opened in 1997 and is the sort of place that has articles written about it. For obvious reasons. In our time, the grounds and its large parking lot are freely open to passersby.
Company sales peaked at $1 billion in 2000, but it was downhill from there. Maybe its baskets, while handsome enough, were the kinds of possessions that eventually ended up in garages, and one was enough for most households.
The company folded in the late 2010s and the building emptied out, remaining vacant to this day. Another company owns the rights to the baskets and other products, but the operation isn’t here. For a time, redevelopment plans called for a boutique hotel, but that didn’t happen, and at last report the building was the subject of an ownership dispute.