Southeast Ohio | Winter Spring 2024 by Southeast Ohio magazine

Southeast

OHIO WINTER | SPRING 24

Meet the Arrow Sniper

Jackson County's TikTok Trickshooter

+ 18:

Travel across the Ohio River by ferry

24:

Explore a beekeeping dynasty's legacy

26:

Journey through the region's roadside museums

Southeast

OHIO

MASTHEAD Editor-In-Chief Kate Marijolovic

Managing Editor Molly Wilson

Copy Editor Henry Jost

Editors Madeline Harden Olivia Justus Logan Humphrey Savannah Dawson

Writers

Max Wolter Ethan Bloomfield Bennett Snyder Danielle Smith

Digital Editor-In-Chief Katie Millard

FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK

hen I began preparing for this issue of Southeast Ohio magazine, I had no idea what to expect. Unlike many of my predecessors, I had never been an editor before, let alone an editor-in-chief. Thankfully, my staff taught me how to lead. The talented team of reporters, photographers, designers and editors worked tirelessly to deliver this magazine to you. Their unwavering dedication to chronicling the stories of this region was inspiring to watch. This issue is about people, those who make Southeast Ohio vibrant, quirky and welcoming. Scattered across Appalachia’s foothills, they can be found steering a centuriesold ferryboat (18), looking after roadside museums (26) or filming viral TikToks in their backyards (42). They are building communities of beekeepers (24) and racers (14). They are those who wonder what happened to a woman who disappeared over 40 years ago—and those who no longer search for her (36). In this issue, we take you to 15 counties across Southeast Ohio. Thank you to those who welcomed our staff into your homes and businesses for their reporting. Thank you also to our readers. I hope you enjoy this issue, and that its stories stay with you for many years to come.

Web Editor Cam Robertson

— Kate Marijolovic Editor-In-Chief

Multimedia Editor Owen McDermott

Mission Statement

Southeast Ohio strives to spotlight the culture

Southeast Ohio magazine

and community within our 21-county region.

E.W. Scripps School of Journalism

Lena Kalantzis Olivia Justus Molly Wilson Katie Millard

The student-run magazine aims to inform,

1 Ohio University

Photo Editor

On The Cover

Social Media Editor Katy Snodgrass

Designers

PJ Marolt

Faculty Advisor Kelly K. Ferguson

2 | Winter / Spring 2024

entertain and inspire readers with stories that hit close to home.

Viral arrow trickshotter Josh O-Dell at his backyard shooting range in Jackson.

PHOTO BY BENNETT SNYDER

Athens, Ohio 45701

Social Media @SEOhioMagazine @SoutheastOhioMagazine @seohiomagazine

CONTENTS The Scene

4 | Business is Blooming Inside a McConnelsville couple’s lavender shop

Behind The Bite 8 | The Six Spirits of Logan Motherwell Distillery crafts Ohio bourbon 11 | Raising the Bar Welcome to Cambridge’s chocolate factory

In Your Neighborhood 12 | Aralyn Rocks! Painted rocks travel the globe for local fundraiser 13 | Meet the Paw Patrol Get to know the Marietta Police Force’s newest K-9s 14 | Down to Dirt Racetrack connects generations in Crooksville 18 | Take Me to the River 200 year-old ferry still bridges West Virginia and Ohio

Talking Points 20 | Land and Language Wayne National Forest gets a new name 22 | Debate, Protest and Scandal Fracking is coming to Ohio’s state parks 24 | Long Live the Queen Bee Beekeepers mourn matriarch Carmen Conrad

Features 26 | Collections Off the Beaten Path A journey through roadside museums 32 | From the Banks of the Ohio Exploring bluegrass roots of the region 36 | After 46 Years, Little Evidence and No Leads SEO reopens the cold case of Joanna Jenkins

38 | Can the Merge Mend? School consolidation addresses socioeconomic divides 42 | The Arrow Sniper of Jackson County Josh O’Dell’s path to viral TikTok stardom

What’s Your Story? 46 | Labor of Love Meet doula Brooke Miller

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The Scene

4 | Winter / Spring 2024

A lavender plant grows in one of the many plots around McConnelsville. Photograph by Cam Robertson

Business is Blooming Couple’s lavender gift shop is takes root in McConnelsville STORY BY CAM ROBERTSON // PHOTOS BY CAM ROBERTSON

n 2015, Mark Ponchak planted his first lavender plant on a whim. Eight years later, what started as a quirky experiment grew into a robust lavender operation featuring over 800 plants. A box of old mail—that conveniently had some lavender enclosed— inspired Ponchak to plant his first plot of lavender. “I open this [box] up, and there’s sprigs of lavender in it. [The sprigs] have been in a box, in an attic for 15 years, and still smell like they were just planted. It was perfect, so I thought, that’s what we’re going to plant,” Ponchak says. That one piece of mail kickstarted the next decade of Ponchak’s life, as five plants grew into more. People began buying lavender from him, and he decided to pursue farming as a business. A year later, Ponchak and his husband, Nick Jenior, moved to McConnelsville, Ponchak’s hometown. They planted larger plots on his family farm to test the business out. Two test plots have become a farm and an accompanying gift shop, Bellavenue Manor. Located in what appears to be a normal house from the outside, the shop

is filled with the inviting scent of lavender and an array of art and other products. “I think [with the shop] we get to share our story. Coming back to Mark’s hometown. . . and getting to put our roots in the community where he grew up,” said Jenior. The shop’s logo features two squirrels holding hands, in front of a heart, with one of them wearing a gray cap. Customers who enter the store will soon find out those squirrels represent Ponchak and Jenior. The couple make and sell bundles of different varieties of dried lavender, as well as lavender infused products, and soaps and lotions made from goat milk. The shop features local art from Ponchak’s friends and crystals from a crystal healer who operates on the floor above. Everything at Bellavenue Manor is made and sourced locally, from the variety of products to the local art. “I definitely wanted [a shop] that was no stress, no pressure. I mean, its lavender,” Ponchak notes as he shrugs his shoulders. “People should just come in and be at home. It’s cool, I like it.”

“People should just

come in and be at home. It’s cool, I like it.”

- Mark Ponchak

Ponchak sells his products online via his Etsy shop. They also appear in several other brick and mortar shops around Southeast Ohio, including Chesterhill, Zanesville and Athens. Through his variety of products, Ponchak wants the patrons of his store to have an immersive shopping experience and to use their senses when they shop— encouraging them to touch and smell his products. Bellavenue Manor also carries a variety of trial bottles of lotions and scents located around the shop, so people can try products at a lower cost. “I encourage everybody to pick everything up,” Ponchak says as he himself picks up a few products. “Pick it up, look at it, it doesn’t mean you have to buy anything. Just have a moment with the place.”

ABOVE: A spread of products within Bellavenue Manor, including dried lavender, greeting cards and other lavender-infused products.

ABOVE: Bellavenue Manor owners Nick Jenior (left) and husband Mark Ponchak (right) pose next to the sign outside the shop.

ABOVE: Bundles of lavender create sensory experience.

Bellavenue Manor 207 S. 10th Street, McConnelsville, OH 43756 Hours: Wednesday-Friday: 11 a.m. - 6 p.m. Saturday: 11 a.m. - 4 p.m. Sunday-Tuesday: Closed Contact: bellavenuemanor@outlook.com ABOVE: Lavender plants bloom purple fireworks of fragrance.

Behind the Bite

Six Spirits of Logan Step behind the scenes of Motherwell craft distillery STORY BY CAM ROBERTSON // PHOTOS BY CAM ROBERTSON

Head Distiller Vince Crisler pours Motherwell’s most popular bourbon into a branded glass. Photograph by Cam Robertson

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ost people imagine a distillery as a grand operation filled with loads of heavy machinery on a wide expanse of land. But that’s not always the case — one exists in Logan in the back of a restaurant. At the end of a long hallway lies a simple room with a rack of barrels and a few machines that home one of the smallest—but also one of the best— distilleries you’ll ever find. Here, head distiller Vince Crisler works his magic. Alongside fellow owners Josh Straus and Adam Bennett, Crisler, ABOVE: Motherwell head distiller Vince Crisler explains the distillation process to a group on a tour. with his signature long hair and beard, distills across the state, and are available in priority, for it to taste good.” the alcohol by heating the alcohol to its Logan and Athens. Two of Motherwell’s spirits boiling point, creating vapors that are As one of the few distilleries in the are independently created; “The then condensed down into the alcoholic region, Crisler and company want to Lubricator” and the Canal Boat Rum are spirits. capitalize on this growth. But at the same independently distilled, while the other Crisler, Straus and Bennett, along time, their goal is to move slowly so they four spirits use different amounts of with Bennett’s wife Andrea and Crisler’s can foster organic growth as they move sourced alcohol in the final product. wife Marcy, helped Motherwell Distillery into the future. Motherwell’s spirits—most open its doors just over a year ago, back in “For us, Southeast Ohio is just such specifically their Common Ground 2022. Attached to 58 West, a local winery a unique place in the world,” Crisler says Wheated Bourbon—represent the and brewery restaurant in downtown mission of the distillery: To create with a smile on his face. “It’s a very, very Logan, Motherwell produces six different community-driven place, and it’s always common ground between two people locally distilled spirits for residents of had a soft spot in our hearts.” over a simple glass of bourbon. Southeast Ohio. Motherwell’s size and operation Crisler noted the meaning of the “I’ve always been an entrepreneur, might not be what people expect, but its and loved starting businesses and phrase goes far beyond the creation of spirits are building a reputation one dark, Motherwell’s bourbon, vodka, gin and running businesses,” Crisler says. “Doing delicious glass of bourbon at a time. whiskey. something in Logan has always been an “All of our products have this element interest of mine.” of a double meaning. So, the meaning on After growing up in Logan, Vince Motherwell Distillery the label is helping people find common Crisler left Southeast Ohio to serve his country in the United States Air Force, ground across socioeconomic divides, 58 W. 2nd Street, coming together over a good glass of later working in the White House. He Logan, OH 43138 bourbon,” Crisler said. “But that means worked in cybersecurity, eventually there’s a bit of compromise, and our starting his own company. Now, he’s Guided Tours available on seized the chance to fulfill a dream of his, compromise is bringing in some sourced Thursday, Friday bourbon.” this time right back in his hometown. and Saturday evenings There is also an area of land in Motherwell’s six spirits include Logan called “Common Ground,” which Spirits Price List: vodka, gin, rum, brandy, double rye is owned by members of Crisler’s family. Double Blaze Vodka: $24.99 whiskey and wheated bourbon. The Lubricator: $27.99 Motherwell is becoming a favorite The spirits are a variety of liquors Canal Boat Rum: $29.99 in Logan, as its spirits enter into containing a mix of sourced and original Devil’s Bathtub Gin: $29.99 local establishments. Patrons at The alcohols. Still a relatively small operation, Rock House Dbl Rye: $39.99 Shamrock, The Max Bar & Grill and Motherwell’s main goal is to produce a Wheated Bourbon: $41.99 The Home Tavern in Logan can enjoy quality product for its customers. Motherwell spirits. “At the end of the day, we wanted to Order online at: Motherwell’s bourbon and vodka are produce some really good tasting stuff,” www.motherwlldistilling.co also starting to appear on Kroger shelves Crisler said. “That was our number one

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Raising the Bar Inside Cambridge’s Chocolate Factory STORY BY DANIELLE SMITH // PHOTOS BY DANIELLE SMITH

ince childhood, chocolate has represented love and togetherness for Amanda Cox. From an early age she began making chocolate around holidays with her mother and grandmother. She originally made buckeye nuts with her family, a treat now carried in her store Nothing But Chocolate. Cox started her chocolate career with a few wholesale accounts, along with selling treats at festivals, bazaars and fundraisers. Once her business began to grow, she opened her first retail location in her living room, using her dining room and kitchen as a production area. Eventually, she outgrew that space and moved into a location in downtown Cambridge. Cox’s latest chocolate home is located on Leatherwood Creek. Shelves line the shop’s deep purple walls, which display brightly colored jellybeans and delectable chocolate treats. “I follow a lot of chocolatiers from all over the world and take my own spin on things, as well as gaining inspiration from my everyday life,” Cox says. Cox’s seasonal chocolate designs feed the eyes as well as the tastebuds. One creation includes chocolate tools in a chocolate toolbox for Father’s Day. For Halloween, Cox created body parts such as brains, fingers, ears, false teeth and anatomical chocolate hearts. While inventory varies, Cox makes sure popular items are available year-round. Cox’s award-winning, hand-dipped

buckeyes were voted third in USA Today’s Best Buckeyes of Ohio in 2019. Other popular items include chocolate-covered pretzel sticks and peanut clusters. Cox’s personal favorite is anything with pecans. Cox capitalizes on the slower summer months by highlighting a flavor of the week, such as Milk Maple Truffles or Sunflowers, a milk chocolate shell filled with soft caramel, pretzels, and peanut butter, coated in bright yellow. Cox’s favorite aspects of her job are the creativity and challenges. From temperature and humidity, to growing the business, she always finds something to improve upon. She loves learning about chocolate and the people who come into her shop. If you are a frequent visitor, you may be lucky enough to be one of her taste testers. Nothing But Chocolate 1218 Southgate Pkwy, Cambridge, OH, 43725 740 439-5754 Monday-Friday 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Closed Sunday

ABOVE: Amanda Cox, owner of Nothing But Chocolate, loading chocolate case before daily production.

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In Your Neighborhood

Aralyn Rocks!

Painted rocks travel the world in support of Aralyn Slack STORY BY OLIVIA JUSTUS // PHOTOS BY HENRY JOST

erri Crothers slowly pushes the kayak into Brush Creek in Adams County. She hops on and ventures into the waters in search of 15 to 20 pounds of rocks to paint. Each rock is handpicked, hand washed and sanitized before Crothers brushes her first stroke of paint. “I’ve always enjoyed paintings,” Crothers says. “That’s the way I relax and de-stress. Painting the rocks is a way that I can give to others and maybe make somebody smile.” Crothers created Aralyn’s Alliance Rocks when she heard 10-year-old Aralyn Slack had been diagnosed with Diffuse Intrinsic Poutine Glioma. DIPG is an aggressive brain tumor found in the brainstem, which controls vital functions like breathing, blood pressure and heart rate. Around 300 children are diagnosed with DIPG every year, according to Boston Children’s Hospital. No one has survived the diagnosis. Aralyn is partaking in an experimental trial and has already completed two rounds of treatment. After the first round was complete, the MRI found the tumor had shrunk slightly and had two necrotic spots. Aralyn recently had her second round of treatment. “I'm trying to do anything to focus towards Aralyn and let her know that people are thinking about her and that we're all praying for her,” Crothers says. Aralyn lives in Lynchburg County, where Crothers grew up. After connecting through a friend, she decided to paint the rocks for Aralyn. Since May, Crothers has painted nearly 900 rocks.

In just over three months, Aralyn’s rocks have traveled to 37 states and 11 countries, including England, Scotland and Peru. Aralyn spread some rocks herself in the Bahamas, after Crothers gave her an entire box full to distribute on the family’s cruise. “There are people out there who have found these rocks and said, ‘I needed this today,’” Shawnda Slack, Aralyn’s mother, says. “It’s not just for Aralyn, I think it helps everyone to have a little goodness and kindness spread.” Crothers has painted nearly 900 rocks and continues to paint them for Aralyn’s joy and to acquire more prayers that she is the first to beat DIPG. The rocks have helped spread awareness, but they also bring joy to Aralyn. Each day she peers through the “Aralyn’s Alliance Rocks!” Facebook page to see where the rocks have wandered each day. Despite the hardships, Aralyn is thriving. “She’s going to school every day, she is playing soccer,” Slack says. “She is doing all the things she still loves to do.”

“Painting the rocks is the way

that I can give to others and maybe make somebody smile.”

- Terri Crothers

ABOVE: Terri Crothers paints the rocks and distributes them at Sugar Shack for others to donate and place around the world.

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Meet the Paw Patrol

K-9 Phoenix strikes a pose.

Marietta Police Department enlists two K-9s to the force STORY BY OLIVIA JUSTUS // PHOTOS BY LENA KALANTZIS

ball of brown and black fuzz flies through the open door, tripping over her leash. Phoenix’s tongue flops out of her mouth as she jumps on the entire news staff. Minutes later, a coat black as the night sky charges up the staircase with his large body and strong legs. Timmy’s bark vibrates off the walls, commanding the room. Phoenix and Timmy are K-9s for the Marietta Police Department with very different jobs. Phoenix works as a therapy dog while Timmy helps officers enforce the law. Phoenix, with her white face mask and light brown eyebrows, is a threemonth-old Bernedoodle therapy dog in training. Sargent Robert Sury of the Marietta police department is Phoenix’s handler. Sury has been integrating her into local school systems as part of her training. “She’s been going a couple of days into the schools to be a barrier breaker between myself and the kids,” Sury says, while he unwraps the red leash from under Phoenix’s paws. “I get engaged in conversation with them, so they get to know me and they’re not afraid.” Phoenix has already made a name for herself in the school system. “All the children love her,” Sury says. While Phoenix has been bouncing between four schools, she has yet to interact with elementary-age children. Since Phoenix is only a few months old, she has entered her toddler stage of teething. Sury explains that children do not know the difference between teething and an actual bite. Timmy, a two-year-old black German Shepherd with brown-speckled paws, is a dual-purpose dog. His duties include apprehension, tracking and article search. Deputy Justin Peters of the

Marietta Police Department is Timmy’s handler. The pair has been together since April and inseparable ever since. “He doesn’t like to be without me,” says Peters as Timmy whines towards the door. “He’s pretty needy.” Timmy is from a breeder in Germany. He only follows commands spoken in German. “Plotz,” Peters says with a hand motion. Timmy lays his strong body on the ground. Peters repeats Plotz twice, to demand sit and stay. “Gib Laut,” Peters says, asking Timmy to speak. Phoenix, a native Southeast Ohioan, is from a breeder in Gloucester. The Marietta Police Department chose Bernedoodles — a hybrid blend of a Bernese Mountain Dog and Poodle — as therapy dogs because poodles are hypoallergenic and less prone to allergic reactions. Bernedoodles are also family oriented, protective and love children. Phoenix’s ears perk up when Sury utters, “Treat.” She sits, lays down and stays, waiting for her reward. Since Phoenix is in her adolescence, she is still learning basic commands. When Phoenix turns one, she will be inducted into a therapy dog training program, in Franklin County, where she will continue training quarterly. With new skills, she can extend her reach to nursing homes as well. As a drug dog, Timmy has experienced a different regimen. Before Timmy came to Marietta, he went through a four-week pedagogy process. After arriving in his new home, he continued training for six weeks with Peters. “We’re constantly working on the drug odors,” Peters says. Timmy and Peters spend their day on Route 77, or elsewhere in Washington County working to disrupt drug trafficking.

“That’s our favorite thing to do,” Peter says. “We are together every day. We like to intercept drugs coming through the county.” Phoenix’s day looks different than Timmy’s. She gets treats, goes from school to school; meeting children, and gets more treats. While Phoenix and Timmy are hardworking members of the police force, they get to be normal dogs at the end of the day. While off duty, Phoenix enjoys chasing the family cat around the house, playing with Sury’s teenage daughter and eating. Timmy likes to spend his leisure time lounging on the couch and playing fetch in the backyard. Back at the station, it’s time for the K-9 unit to head back to work. Phoenix rushes up the grand staircase only to wrap her own leash around herself. Timmy takes charge and struts out of the door, awaiting his next drug bust.

ABOVE: Timmy dutifully awaits his next command in German.

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Down to Dirt

At Midway Speedway, classic racing meets fresh rubber STORY BY PJ MARLOT // PHOTOS BY PJ MAROLT

assive vibrations shake the ground. Green-layered hills span the looming spotlights. Hundreds of people pepper the landscape, spread across the stands and the track. Red clay rains from the infield, covering fans too close to the fence, in search of a closer look of the ⅜-mile long, red clay, semi-banked oval track, where dirt racers compete. Located on Route 93 in Crooksville, Midway Speedway is a dirt racing track with a statewide reputation, and a history that dates back to the 1950s. Racers and fans travel from across the state to watch. Midway has experienced management and ownership turnover through the years, but a few faces remain consistent. Jeremy Krouskoupf, the track’s current promoter, is a rough, tough advocate for the races. Since 2016, he has done a little bit of everything, including track prep, cleanup, maintenance and paperwork. Krouskoupf started racing at 8-yearsold, so it’s no surprise dirt track racing is engrained in his life.

14 | Winter / Spring 2024

“It’s pretty much been my life for the last 20 plus years,” says Krouskoupf. “So it’s a labor of love.” Racing season kicks off in spring and runs through the fall, with races usually held on Saturdays. The crowd amassed from these races is usually in the hundreds, but for the bigger races, it could be more. All are welcome on the dirt track scene. Midway Speedway hosts different classes of racing, ranging from the cheap but efficient “econo” class to the expensive and fast “late models.” Classes separate cars by mechanical power and efficiency to keep the races fair. Midway currently features six different classes, with plans to add more. To enter, a car needs to meet certain specifications, mostly those in place for safety. Racers also need to demonstrate an understanding of the rules and what racing flags indicate. But the Midway staff are more than happy to help novice racers learn what they need to get started.

Running a successful dirt track takes hours of labor and dedication. The new owners, Ray Seifert and his sons, Chris and Michael, have livened up the racing scene since purchasing the track in 2022. Since then, they have improved the facility with new guardrails, buildings, a PA system, speakers, lights, updated bleachers and resurfaced red clay. Chris, Michael and Ray brought back the “points” system, where if racers do

“Racing is like

nothing else, it can get wild and crazy at times. It’s one of the purest forms of entertainment,”

- Jeremy Krouskoupf

ABOVE: A late model, steel block, Landham #5J lines up for the race.

well, they earn points. Points champions are then invited to a banquet at the end of the season, where the prize-winners celebrate their achievements. Plans for the future include building new fence, an improved pit stand, laying new gravel and more. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Michael says. “Sometimes you just sit and dream about different things that you want to do to the place.” Within the year, Chris, Michael and Ray hope to finish their new go-kart and lawnmower track inside the infield. By hosting these races, they want to inspire a new generation, while making racing more affordable. Krouskoupf hopes to host national events and stream races, for those who can’t attend in person. In the sport of racing, experienced drivers pass on their knowledge— and love—to the younger generation. Racer Jess Hartman is a pro with 24 years of experience. His grandfather owned R&R Speedway in Zanesville until its closure in 2000. Meanwhile, newcomer

12-year-old Bailey Miller, started racing only two years ago. Hartman has earned plenty of accolades over the years. He won the Street Stock World Championship at Muskingum County Speedway, the United Midwestern Promoters Ohio Sectional Championship in addition to wins several times this season. Newcomer Miller, on the other hand, has already won multiple races in his class this season. “It’s definitely an adrenaline rush. I like racing a lot, and I like going fast,” says Miller. Krouskoupf believes that racing is a sport that has evolved over time in human history. From the Roman chariot to the super late model, the wheels keep turning, and the fans keep coming. “[Racing] is like nothing else, it can get wild and crazy at times,” Krouskoupf said. “It’s one of the purest forms of entertainment.”

Midway Speedway

2317 OH-93, Crooksville, OH 740 408-2885 Races run seasonally May-October. For info: https://www. facebook.com/p/MidwaySpeedway-100064305657297/

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LEFT LARGE: Racers “running” the track before the race begins. LEFT SMALL: Jess Hartman prepares for upcoming race. UPPER RIGHT: (L-R) Tom Cox, Casey Miller, Bailey Miller, and Brad Miller pose between races. LOWER RIGHT: Steel block late models exit the shoot and enter the raceway.

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Take Me to the River 200-year-old ferry service connects Ohio and West Virginia STORY BY MAX WOLTER // PHOTOS BY DANIELLE SMITH

Captain Bo Hause steers Sistersville Ferry across the Ohio River.

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RIGHT: Sistersville Ferry transports motorcyclists across the Ohio River from Sistersville, West Virginia to Fly, Ohio.

riving down State Route 7 along the West Virginia border, I pass a riverside restaurant and pull into a gravel driveway leading to the water. As I get out of the car, I spot the Sistersville Ferry across the Ohio River. The boat creeps away from the dock and approaches Fly, Ohio. A couple bikers pass me and walk to where the river meets the concrete dock. It’s a hot day and the sun beats down on my shoulders. Eventually, the boat creeps closer to land and scoots its metal tongue onto the driveway. Gary Bowden, an energetic 73-yearold wiry retired man, waves and greets us. Bowden has been on the Sistersville Ferry Board for three years after reviving the ferry service. The pandemic and a lack of a captain shut down the ferry in 2020, but Bowden revived it. He found Captain Bo Hause, joined the ferry city board and formed a creative relations team of locals to raise money and attention. “I kinda inserted myself into the board, and by July 4th weekend we were up and running again,” Bowden says. The Sistersville Ferry is the oldest ferry service in Ohio. In 1813, a paddle boat began transporting people across the Ohio River between Fly, Ohio and Sistersville, West Virginia. An oil boom in 1892 attracted many

businesses and families to Sistersville. They relied on the ferry to get to work or transport goods. Now, most local businesses have left town, and the ferry sees less business. “We don’t have the employment or population base anymore to sustain it,” he says. The ferry recently hosted musicians and historians to attract more attention. The population of Sistersville is just under 1,400 residents. Despite that, the Sistersville Ferry Facebook page has over 7,000 followers, with their posts often racking up hundreds of likes. Even though Sistersville’s population cannot support their ferry, many visitors send donations or stop in town to ride the ferry. It costs one dollar to ride the ferry and five dollars to transport a car. Other cities have a special bridge, memorial or statue, but Sistersville has its ferry. “It’s YOUR Sistersville ferry. It’s YOUR little icon from the mid-Ohio valley,” Bowden exclaims as the ferryboat cuts across the water. At the dock, Bowden introduces me to the crew, Tom Meek and Captain Bo, two retired Marine Corps veterans who have been running the ferry intermittently for the past 12 years. Captain Bo will be retiring at the end of the 2024 season. Meek is training to take over as captain in 2025.

“It gets real hot out here when you’re on this boat all day,” Meek says. He has a deep tan and wears a sun hat. Captain Bo is dressed in a royal blue sailor’s jacket with a matching blue hat and black cargo shorts. “You didn’t want to wear the full suit for the press?” Bowden asks. “No, it’s too dang hot out for that,” Meek replies. When Captain Bo is ready to sail across the river, I jump in my car and drive up the metal ramp onto the ferry. Captain Bo climbs up to the captain’s quarters. Meek shuts the ferry gates, and the boat takes off. A breeze runs through my hair and the sun’s heat becomes manageable. The brimming sun makes the water sparkle as the birds serenade. I catch myself letting out a sigh of relief while gazing down the river. For a moment, I pause my adventure and appreciate the surroundings. As we float into West Virginia, we are welcomed by one of Sistersville’s landmarks, the region’s first oil drilling rig. Bowden grabs a couple cold bombpop popsicles from the ship’s tiny shop and starts handing them out to travelers. “It’s the little things that make our trip memorable,” Bowden says.

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Talking Points

Land and Language

Forest Service announces proposal to change the name of the Wayne National Forest to Buckeye National Forest STORY BY HENRY JOST // PHOTOS BY HENRY JOST

n August, the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced a proposal to rename Ohio’s only national forest, Wayne National Forest. It could soon be called Buckeye National Forest. After requests from American Indian Tribes and local community members, the USDA announced a proposal to change the name of Wayne National Forest to Buckeye National Forest, after Ohio’s state tree. For many in Southeast Ohio, the decision to rename the forest stirs up strong viewpoints. John Winnenberg, a resident of Perry County, knows firsthand the challenges

of preserving Native American history in Ohio. In 1977, when Winnenberg was just 22 years old, he and four others bought what was previously known as Red Men’s Hall. Winnenberg renamed the building Tecumseh Theater after the Shawnee Tribe of Ohio and has spent the past several decades restoring the building. “We have struggled against the local economy and the abandonment of the mining towns of the Hocking Valley all my adult life. So, it’ll be really cool to see an effort take hold and have our federal government recognize the story that we’ve been trying to celebrate and give homage with our theater restoration to the Shawnee tribes,” says Winnenberg.

ABOVE: Outside Wayne National Forest Headquarters in Athens.

20 | Winter / Spring 2024

“The words we use and the things we recognize have an impact on who we are as communities and our culture, and if my grandchild asked me who Wayne was, the only thing that I would probably be able to tell him is that he expelled Natives from Ohio Country during a conflict.” William Kilbane, a member of the Navajo Nation and a current first-year student at Ohio University (Athens), is president of Indigenous Circle, a club he started at the beginning of the year. Indigenous Circle, which has about 10 members, is dedicated to providing an inclusive environment for Indigenous students and deepening the understanding of Native American

ABOVE: William Kilbane (left), President of Indigenous Circle and Joseph Facun (right), an Indigenous Circle member.

communities and their past at OHIO. “I think this is a big deal. Because it’s a small win for us, which is how I view our club, it’s a small step in the right direction,” says Kilbane. Joseph Facun, a member of Indigenous Circle, supports renaming the forest, but thinks it would have been more appropriate if it were named after a tribe from Ohio. “There are no federally recognized tribes in Ohio. So, pushing it towards something that would be more related to that would have been better,” says Facun. “I also think Buckeyes are more associated with Ohio State University (Columbus) nowadays, even though Ohio is the Buckeye State.” According to a USDA press release, “Buckeye” was a name suggested by American Indian Tribes. Other potential names considered were “Ohio National Forest” and “Koteewa National Forest.” Sarah Liese, a Navajo and Chippewa Cree, recently graduated from the E.W. Scripps School of Journalism

with a Master's. In 2021, Liese published a story that found Ohio has the highest number of Native-themed mascots in K-12 schools in the nation and hopes to publish a podcast that highlights Indigenous topics. “[The name change] is really more about respect and including the original people of the land, because the history books that are being used today and the ones that were being used when we were kids glossed over the history of Indigenous people.” Liese says. Rep. Troy Balderson, who declined an interview with Southeast Ohio magazine, and Reps. Bill Johnson and Brad Wenstrup, all represent parts of Wayne’s National Forest. The trio of congressmen sent a letter to the Agriculture Secretary and Forest Service Chief expressing their concerns about a possible name change. “While we have general concerns with removing Anthony Wayne as the namesake of the forest, and whether it is worth the $400,000 price tag, we would like additional information as

to why, after 70 years, the decision to rename the forest was done with little to no community involvement,” read the letter. The large price tag mainly covers replacing signs and maps for the park. The U.S. National Park Service provided a 15-day public comment period on whether or not the name should be changed. Wayne National Forest bears the name of General Anthony Wayne, nicknamed “Mad Anthony”, who orchestrated a forceful and brutal attack against Native American communities, destroying residencies and displacing indigenous people from their ancestral homes during the United States’ westward expansion in the late 1700s The forest includes a quarter of a million acres of Appalachian land. “I think changing the name is not necessarily about erasing history or denying it, because I think it is really important to move forward,” Liese says.

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Debate, Protest and Scandal

A state commission’s contested decision brings fracking to Ohio state parks

STORY BY KATY SNODGRASS//PHOTOS BY KATY SNODGRASS, RANDI POKLADNIK

utside the Ohio Statehouse, a hush falls over the unruly crowd. A buzz of anticipation looms in the cold, rainy October air. Protesters shivering in raincoats and hiding under umbrellas wait for boisterous speeches to commence. The crowd listens patiently to a slew of speakers, a litany of highlevel officials for sustainability and environmental groups, professors, attorneys and passionate volunteers. All of the speakers share a common goal: to save Ohio’s state parks. On September 18, Ohio’s Oil & Gas Land Management Commission met to decide whether or not to lease state-owned land to an anonymous oil and gas company for fracking. The request, or nomination, left 2,000 acres of land under Wolf Run State Park subject to drilling, among several other nominations for more state parks and wildlife areas. Hydraulic fracturing is a practice that drills deep into the earth using small explosions and a mix of water, sand and chemicals to extract natural gas or oil from shale and other forms of “tight” rock. Dr. Randi Pokladnik, a committee member and fracking expert for Save Ohio Parks, says it’s only a matter of time before fracking affects drinking water sources, air emissions and noise and light pollution. Pokladnik says fracking in state parks could become a serious health hazard to communities. Radium

from the water solution used to extract the oil and gas from miles under the ground could seep into groundwater that many communities get well water from. The compressors used in the fracking process could leak harmful methane gas into the atmosphere at highly pressurized rates, says Pokladnik. An increase in road traffic and noise and light pollution has also occurred from the dozens of trucks passing through each day, quickly wearing down local infrastructure and interrupting locals’ sleep cycles. Ohio produced almost 20 million barrels of oil in 2022, according to the Ohio Geological Survey’s 2022 Report on Ohio Mineral Industries. Combined, those barrels were valued at over $1.7 billion. Oil produced in Ohio increased in value by 48.2 percent between 2021 and 2022. Pokladnik is frustrated with state representatives for allowing fossil fuel companies to wreak havoc on the region in exchange for the promise of making money. “It’s sad. We are losing our resources, and they could sit for decades until we might really need them, but there is a rush to get these things out no matter what,” says Pokladnik. Incident documentation from the Ohio Department of Natural Resources reveal that Pokladnik’s concerns are well founded. 1,530 separate incidents have occurred at fracking sites in Ohio since 2018.

ABOVE: Without its sound barrier, locals describe Deersville well pad as louder than a jet plane.

ABOVE: A private residence located at the bottom of a hill next to Wolf Run Lake. Residents such as these will be the first and most impacted by the introduction of fracking in state parks.

34 percent of those incidents have occurred in Southeast Ohio, making it the region of the state most prone to fracking accidents. The ODNR reports that 51 percent of all fracking incidents in Ohio result in some kind of a leak, a majority of which release natural gas or crude oil onto land or into the atmosphere surrounding a drilling site. Major accidents continue to pop up across the state. In October, Guernsey County residents within a half a mile radius of an oil pad site were evacuated after a gas leak emitted harmful chemicals near their houses. In July 450 people were evacuated from Columbiana County, following a similar well pad gas leak. Ohio law allows the company that applied for the fracking permit in Wolf Run State Park to remain anonymous. Section 155.33 of the Ohio revised code allows the state to rent out parts of land it owns or controls for oil and natural gas exploration—only as long as the majority of information is guarded from the public for 45 days, or until the OGLMC announces their finalists from a pool of bids within 120 days of the nomination. Information shielded from the public includes the name, address and contact information of the person or company making the bid. Information about the land and details about the deal between the state and the renter are also kept secret, including the price of the land. This secrecy was upheld by the OGLMC during their September meeting. Before discussion on the identity of the company could begin, the commission voted to have the conversation in an executive meeting and promptly left the meeting room. While awaiting their return, members of SOP stood up and made their opposition to fracking in state parks known by singing

and chanting to the audience, accompanied with signs, costumes and props. After it was discovered that letters were sent to the OGLMC in Ohioans’ names without their consent or knowledge, hundreds of Ohio residents are also becoming involved in the issue. On September 10, Cleveland.com revealed that the names, emails, phone numbers and addresses of over 150 people were used without their consent to send profracking letters to the OGLMC. “I was first alerted to this breach of privacy via a post on Reddit,” wrote Dr. Aviva Neff, a Columbus resident whose information was used without her consent. “I received an automated notification from the OGLMC thanking me for my message, and looked into the matter further. I was not aware of this letter when it was sent.” During the September meeting, chair of the OGLMC, Ryan Richardson, explained the public had notified the commission of the letters in July. Richardson said the commission then reported the allegations to the Attorney General’s office, which is investigating the breach of privacy. “The attorney general takes these allegations seriously and has assigned investigative staff to look into the matter further,” wrote Hannah Hudley, the attorney general’s Public Information Officer. Southeast Ohio magazine’s request for more information on the case was denied. The Ohio Environmental Council and SOP say through their own investigation, they have traced over 1,000 of the emails back to the Consumer Energy Alliance, a Texas-based nonprofit. CEA is accused of falsely sending emails in citizens’ names in Wisconsin in 2014, Ohio in 2016 and in South Carolina in 2018. In a September press release, SOP member Cathy Cowan Baker said, “The

information for Ohioans whose names were on those letters included phone numbers, so a dozen SOP volunteers called 735 of those numbers. We reached 115 people, and of those 98 told our volunteers they did not submit the letter. Two said they did, and the rest were noncommittal.” When asked to comment, CEA Vice President of Media and Strategic Communications, Bryson Hull wrote, “Please see CEA’s statement and letter to the Attorney General characterizing the original coverage [Cleveland.com] as potentially libelous. CEA will have no further statement other than to say we are actively cooperating with the investigation.” Despite these revelations causing public disapproval of the project, OGLMC commissioners were unable to reach a firm decision on whether or not to approve fracking in Wolf Run State Park during their September meeting. At that meeting, the OGLMC approved four separate nominations to lease out land owned by the Ohio Department of Transportation across Belmont, Carroll, Columbiana and Harrison counties. After reconvening on November 15, the OGLMC approved seven of the ten nominations for fracking in state-owned areas, including Salt Fork State Park, Valley Run Wildlife Area and Zepernick Wildlife Area. But the nomination for Wolf Run State Park was rejected— in part because surrounding land is used by Ohio State University’s Eastern Agricultural Research Station. Fracking in state parks is now imminent. Activists know the people who live near parks, who need to sleep, work and drink clean water, will be the ones left to deal with the bubbling poisons for decades to come.

ABOVE: The Conrad’s bees are being donated to the central Ohio Beekeepers Association.

Long Live the Queen Bee

Southeast Ohio bee community reflects on the life and work of bee farmer advocate Carmen Conrad STORY BY SAVANNAH DAWSON // PHOTOS BY OWEN MCDERMOTT AND PROVIDED

memorial bench rests at the Lithopolis Honeyfest, held annually on the streets of Lithopolis, honoring local bee farmer Barry Conrad. Soon his wife, Carmen, will be honored with a bench near his, inscribed with a message that will preserve her legacy as the region’s foremost beekeeper: “Long Live the Queen.” When Carmen Conrad passed on September 16, 2023, at the age of 77, central and southern Ohio lost a key founder and activist of the bee community. Now, local beekeepers must find a way to continue without their beloved “queen bee.” Carmen, and her husband Barry, founded Conrad Hive and Honey over 15 years ago after taking over Brad’s Hive and Honey, and it has been a staple in the Canal Winchester community ever since. They were also influential in the founding of the Lithopolis Honeyfest—an annual festival held in the village of Lithopolis, dedicated to the preservation and celebration of the honeybee. In their time together, the pair dabbled in many different careers. From photography to horse racing, farming to candlemaking, wine-making to piloting planes—this couple did it all. They were most adored for their love for and knowledge of bees, which started as a hobby of Barry’s, that Carmen came to embrace. Barry’s son, Jeff Conrad, said that Carmen and Barry were a package deal, often found enjoying their lives together. They were married for 34 years. Carmen struggled after her husband passed away in 2020 at age 78, but she persisted and kept the family business alive. “They did so much of the [beekeeping] together that after he passed, she could still give the same advice to people that my dad used to,” said Jeff. “People would often call Carmen for advice

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because they knew that they could trust her knowledge.” Donald Thomas of Thomas Family Bee Farm was a longtime customer of Barry and Carmen’s. As a new beekeeper, he trusted the Conrads’ wisdom to guide him and his wife in the right direction. “Carmen got the biggest kick out of me setting my [beekeeping] veil on fire,” said Thomas. “She asked, “How does someone set their veil on fire?”, but she was nice enough to switch it out for me. I’m not sure if it was because she felt bad, or because it made her laugh!” Conrad Hive and Honey was well-known for their honey that

“People would often call Carmen

for advice because they knew they could trust her knowledge.”

- Donald Thomas

was sold at the farmers markets on the weekends, as well as their beeswax candles, which Carmen made by hand at home. “She would make all the candles, melt down the beeswax and everyone loved them,” Jeff said. “She would try to hire people to make some of the candles, but they were never to her satisfaction.” Carmen often brought her grandchildren along to farmers markets, festivals, and other bee events, teaching them her way of honey production, candle-making, and befriending customers. She first made candles for her grandchildren to enjoy, but after they became popular, she began selling them to others.

ABOVE: Carmen and Barry as a young couple.

ABOVE: The Conrad bees on the farm in October.

Tess Conrad, Jeff’s daughter, is the likely heir to Barry and Carmen’s legacy. She was very involved in the bee farm and community while her grandparents were alive. Tess traveled with Carmen to a variety of festivals, farmers markets and bee conventions across the nation. In the past few years, she helped Carmen host the National Honey Queen for the Lithopolis Honeyfest. “Even just the week before she passed, we had the queen here [at Conrad Honey and Hive], and she would take them to schools, different shows, and get the community involved,” Tess said of her grandmother. While local, the Conrad family has had a national impact. When Southeast Ohio magazine met with the Conrad family, mail continued to arrive. Weeks later, they continued to receive support

in the form of written correspondence — letters and love coming from Wisconsin to New Hampshire. The family spent the month after Carmen passed away trying to keep the farm running, but soon realized they didn’t have the same resources and passion for bees as Carmen and Barry. The family has decided to close the business. The Conrad bees will be donated to the Central Ohio Beekeepers Association, where Barry was President and Treasurer for many years. The couple’s equipment and leftover stock will be sold at farmers markets and from the Conrad farm until they are gone. Tess has been elected to take Carmen’s spot as a honey judge for a variety of different shows and events because of Carmen’s recommendation, as well as her former position as the National Honey Queen, in honor of her grandmother’s legacy.

ABOVE: The Conrad Honey and Hive store on the farm.

ABOVE: Carmen and Barry with their bees.

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Features

David Hill stands beside Dr. John Harris Dental Museum’s sign on W. Main Street in Bainbridge. Photograph by Danielle Smith

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Collections off the Beaten Path Southeast Ohio explores boutique roadside museums STORY BY ETHAN BLOOMFIELD // PHOTOS BY DANIELLE SMITH AND MILTON LINDSAY

A Lonely House: The Dr. John Harris Dental Museum

tepping up to the second floor of the Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural Center, I’m faced with an immense oil painting of a table set for eight. The plainly dressed family, solemn with their heads bowed, sit before empty plates ready for cool milk, fresh vegetables and roast chicken. The edge of the scene trails off into the rolling green hills of Appalachia that surround the museum. Throughout the foothills of Appalachia, everywhere from the main streets to the backwoods, histories and collections are waiting to be found. The Ohio Museums Association lists over 1,200 members in its catalog, “from arboretums to … zoos—and everything in between,” their website reads. My journey promised to be one of discoveries, as I ventured into the corners of southeast Ohio’s cultural archives. Driving down West Main Street in Bainbridge, the Dr. John Harris Dental Museum sits nestled in a greenery-laden row of unassuming houses. A sign pointing to parking in the back and a little hanging nameplate are all that announce the museum to the street. The small, white house is that of Dr. John Harris, a New York native who moved to Bainbridge around 1825 to practice medicine and dentistry. In November 1827, Harris told local newspapers he intended to take on medical students. His first recruiting effort was successful, and his home became the first dental school in the United States.

“I ask people why [they come in], and it’s usually dentists going away camping.”

- Betsy Harr

The Ohio Dental Association bought the house in 1938 and converted it into a museum, which opened in 1968. Through the side door entrance sits a small elderly woman with a dyed bob haircut reading a thick paperback, who collects the $5 admission fee. Betsy Harr, employed by the museum for over 10 years, is the only other person I see as I take my tour. “Generally, we get people who are going someplace else,” Harr says. “I usually ask people why [they come in], and it’s usually dentists going away camping.” The ledger behind her desk features names from near and far over the last few years, with the number of visitors sometimes dwindling down to handfuls over weeks. Down the hall near the medical students’ living quarters,

ABOVE: A display of antique dentist chairs and equipment on display inside the museum.

two plaques hang commemorating donations from doctors and dentists to the institution. “We’re funded through the state … I mean, we don’t make that much,” Harr says. After the coronavirus pandemic, the museum shifted from opening six days a week to just two. The house yields all its secrets in little more than an hour. In one room, a row of dental chairs from decades and centuries past, and in another, glass cases full of medals and accolades for the most distinguished Ohio dentists. The tools and procedures on display were enough to make me count my lucky stars for modern medicine. After a lengthy farewell from Harr, Bainbridge comes back into focus. The stillness and loneliness of the hallways of the dim museum are behind me, but the feeling pervades long after I leave town. Dr. John Harris Dental Museum 208 W. Main Street, Bainbridge OH 45612 (740) 634-2228 Saturday and Sunday 12 p.m. to 4 p.m. $5 per person

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ABOVE: The hall of fame photos, hanging outside Ippoliti’s office, showcases contributors of all kinds to the barbering profession.

For the Glory of Haircuts: The National Barber Museum and Hall of Fame

urator and director, Mike Ippoliti, hails from across the corridor as I walk into the National Barber Museum in Canal Winchester. With a wave, the large, bald man shows me into the nearest room, outfitted with a one-to-one diorama of a barber shop from the 1860s. As we sit down at a white, plastic table together, my eyes wander behind him to the wall of hundreds of shaving mugs with names, colors and shapes of all kinds. Ippoliti says I haven’t seen the half of it yet. Ed Jeffers, a native of Canal Winchester became known as the “godfather of barbering” for his contributions to the profession, started the museum above his shop in 1988 to show off his personal collection. Since Jeffers passed away in 2006, the collection has belonged to the Canal Winchester Historical Society, with Ippoliti as its curator. After a fire damaged the museum’s original downtown location in 2014, it reopened in a new home on May 5, 2018. The over-10,000 pieces, housed in an administrative building for the nearby Canal Winchester Local Schools, range from antique chairs to vacuum tube hair stimulators. “[People] will walk in here, not really thinking it’s going to be much,” Ippoliti says. “They thought they were going to see a chair with some razors, some shaving mugs … well, there’s more to it.” Ippoliti takes me through each room, describing their contents in joyous detail. A room dedicated to “whimsical” barbering memorabilia, a room with walls full of wooden and electric historical barber poles, and a full-scale model of a barbering station at Ed Jeffers’ old shop are just some of what I see on the hour-long tour. Tucked away in the opposite corner sits a small glass case with a magazine in a language I could not read. The display features

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Adam Szulc, a Polish barber and the 2021 hall of fame inductee. Signed books and custom razors sit among pictures of a happy, well-bearded, graying man. Many of the barbers on the wall have cases, frames or gifts somewhere in the room, dedicated to their commitment to the museum. As Ippoliti recounts the stories of the items, he laughs as if sharing memories of dear friends. The grand finale is the titular hall of fame – columns of names and headshots of dozens of accomplished barbers hanging outside Ippoliti’s office. The display features personages such as Vernon Winfrey, Oprah Winfrey’s father; Russell Hiatt, the inspiration for “Floyd the Barber” of Andy Griffith Show fame; and Ippoliti himself, who was inducted in 2022. “They just surprised me with it,” says Ippoliti, fondly, looking at the photo on the wall. After one more pass through the main corridor, I leave with a newfound appreciation for the art of barbering — and, thankfully, with my hair still down to my shoulders.

National Barber Museum Hall of Fame 135 Franklin Street, Canal Winchester OH 43011 Friday and Saturday 11 p.m. to 4 p.m. Private tours available by appointment $5, $4 for seniors $3 for students

A River Town’s Pride: Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural Center

y first sight is an oil painting tucked around the corner, a stoic clown peering from the frame. A well-worn footpath snakes through the tall grass along the tents into the distance. The afternoon sun casts long shadows on the grazing camels in the middle ground, adorned in colorful, patterned cloth. The aftermath of this circus’ day felt calm, yet melancholy. Peeking out through the side streets on the way downtown, the murals of Portsmouth’s famous floodwall flash with scenes over the last 2,000 years of the region’s history. Opened in 1979, the Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural

Center has been a mark of pride for the city, welcoming locals and visitors to come together, learn and enjoy art free of charge. Charlotte Gordon, the artistic director at the museum, has advocated to maintain and improve the museum space for the people of Portsmouth. “My husband and I are co-directors, and a decade ago . . . we were looking for something to roll up our sleeves and make an impact on a community,” Gordon says. “What attracted us to Portsmouth, and to the Southern Ohio Museum is that this is a cultural center as well.” The museum boasts a theater space with live events for all ages throughout the year, along with community galleries and exhibitions for local artists. The stars of the museum are the two galleries on the top floor. The first and most immediately striking display is the single largest collection of works by Portsmouth native and surrealist painter Clarence Holbrook Carter. Carter detailed the melancholy of own upbringing and experiences through oil painting and multimedia. His works hang in the most prestigious museums in America, yet most remain in his hometown. “Carter is really a feather in Portsmouth’s cap,” says Gordon. The museum is arguably most known for its collection of prehistoric Indigenous artifacts. Over 10,000 pieces from across the region are on display, unconnected to any living tribe, mostly from the Adena and Hopewell cultures.

“We were looking to roll up our sleeves and make an impact”

- Charlotte Gordon

ABOVE: The outside of the Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural Center

Local entrepreneurs Charles and Bill Wertz unearthed the collection from mounds and burial sites in the early 20th century. After their deaths, the family donated the items with the stipulation that they never leave the museum. The brightly-lit glass shelves contain pipes, flutes, arrowheads, sculptures and jewelry, among the sorted and labeled earthworks and artifacts. “It’s all the story of the human race. [Works of] art are communication objects. …, Gordan says. “We can come in and have connections to this work that was made thousands and thousands of years ago, and still, we can have connections with the people from this region who are still creating today.” I was led through a dark staircase back into the main hall. I glanced at the modest gift shop as I left, adorned with tee shirts and shiny knick-knacks. Back on the sidewalk, I took in the busy corner of Portsmouth that I found myself on; the people on the roads headed to class at Shawnee State, or to work downtown, and I stood with a softened eye for the city I’d been going to my whole life, somehow new and a little more inviting. Southern Ohio Museum and Cultural Center 825 Gallia Street, Portsmouth OH 45662 Tuesday through Friday 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday 1 p.m. to 5 p.m.

ABOVE: Charlotte Gordon, the artistic director of the museum, overlooks the main gallery from the second floor.

Free

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A case of dental toys and figurines sit tucked in the back of the Harris house.

Portsmouth native Clarence Holbrook Carter’s “Lets Give Us Thanks” (1943) hangs on a blue wall. The collection is one of the largest in the world.

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An extensive collection of antique barber poles line one room in the National Barber Museum, casting a soft yellow glow into the space.

Curator and Director Mike Ippoliti of the National Barber Museum poses in front of a display of shaving mugs.

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From the Banks of the Ohio

ABOVE: Photo illustration combines scenes from the 2023 Bob Evans Farm Festival. Donnie Davisson of the Davisson Brothers Band wails on guitar.

Exploring Bluegrass’ Southeast Ohio roots STORY BY KATIE MILLARD // PHOTOS BY LENA KALANTZIS

oal and soot fell from stomping boots as miners, factory workers and families were swept up in rising fiddles and train-whistle harmonies. After long shifts, the blue-collar workers who made Southern Ohio often relaxed to the tight tunes of bluegrass, which they carried with them from Tennessee, North Carolina and other southern Appalachian states. Songs ranged from quick-tempo twang to longing music that intertwined fiddle strings with heart strings. First recorded on Aug. 12, 1927, “Banks of the Ohio” is an old bluegrass murder ballad accompanied by a folk tale. Betty Mace of Perrysville describes the grave of the victim in the ballad.

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According to legend, a hunter happened across the grave, which sported a single flower. He decided to pick the flower for his wife, and another sprouted immediately. The whole town heard and tried it, and each time a new flower grew. Finally, the accused murderer was pressured to try. Upon picking the flower, it instantly withered and died. “Only say that you’ll be mine And in our home we’ll happy be Down beside where the waters flow, On the banks of the Ohio.” Although bluegrass’ birth is primarily associated with Ohio County, Kentucky, bluegrass music traveled north and

thrives in Southern Ohio too. “There’s a couple areas in the country that have always been kind of bluegrass hotbeds,” Dan Brooks, dobro player for the Rarely Herd, an internationally established bluegrass band from the ‘90s, says. “Southeastern Ohio was one.”

Bluegrass is Born

Bluegrass is rooted in Appalachian music, a genre of traditional music from the Appalachian Mountain region that encompasses bluegrass, country, folk and old-time music. The genre is known for its blend of Scots-Irish and African musical traditions.

“There’s a

couple areas in the country that have always kind of been bluegrass hotbeds. Southeastern Ohio was one”

- Dan Brooks

The banjo, a staple of the genre, originated in Africa. The genre’s vocal stylings also have distinct roots in blues, African American Psalm singing and field hollers, a type of song sung in fields of plantations by enslaved people. According to Black Music Scholar, music was a way to navigate the horrors of slavery as well as communicate encrypted messages, Biblical stories and encouragement. Bluegrass first emerged in the early 20th Century, and soon after, bluegrass music took firm root in Southern Ohio. “The Bluegrass Triangle” refers to the area connecting Columbus, Dayton and Cincinnati, where factories drew workers from central Appalachia to its Ohio edges, bringing musical traditions with them. Small bars and clubs attracted famed bluegrass acts like the Osborne Bothers, Earl Taylor and even Bill Monroe, the “father of bluegrass.” Further east in Southern Ohio, small factory cities transitioned to coal mining towns as bluegrass traveled east, and bluegrass continued underscoring the working class and their stories. Bluegrass, alongside jazz, blues and folk music, is part of the “music of coal.” Jack Wright, author of “Music of Coal” and a former film professor and Ohio University alum, says song themes range from the intricacies of coal life to black lung. “As an industrial subject, coal mining is probably one of the richest veins of folklore for musicians and for songs about mining,” Wright says. According to Native Ground Books & Music, Appalachian migrants in southern Ohio performed for one another to help keep their culture alive and as an outlet to discuss working class life. Early Southern Ohio bluegrass was found in the home, church and on the radio, enjoyed communally. As younger migrants arrived, they were met with the familiar music and found comfort in the musical

ABOVE: The Rarely Herd smiles for the Winter 1994 edition of Southeast Ohio Magazine.

memories of the “old home.” Tight discipline in the mines and factories was reflected in tight harmonies and quick fingering strings. The highly specialized work carried into the music, with performers mastering their individual instruments and parts of each song. In Dayton, trios became most popular, as they played from bar to crowded pub. Some traveled further, however, such as the Dayton-based duo the Osborne Brothers, the first bluegrass group to perform at the White House and 1994 inductees to the International Bluegrass Music Association’s Hall of Honor.

Ohio Fuels Modern Scene

As bluegrass developed, Southern Ohio continued to produce noteworthy acts, singers and bands in the bluegrass scene.

Hailing from Athens County, The Rarely Herd got their start playing locally. Family gathering jam sessions shifted to something more formal when they met Alan Stack, who would become their fiddle and mandolin player. The group officially began in 1989, and two years later the band was signed by a record label, touring the U.S. and performing in a bluegrass series in Ontario, Canada. “Just by virtue of our records, being out on radio, we started to get a lot of calls and a lot of bookings in different places,” Brooks says. While Brooks and the Rarely Herd grew from Southern Ohio, he says their hometown roots continued to influence their success. Some Rarely Herd songs reference Ohio, including “My Virginia Girl,” which opens with intricate strings and the line, “It’s another lonely night in Cincinnati.”

ABOVE: Visitors meander through the 2023 Bob Evans Farm Festival behind a decorative hay horse-drawn fire wagon.

“There’s a lot of those groups I don’t know how they stay together because, you know, the banjo player will be from Indiana, the guitar player would be from Virginia, this guy would be from Wisconsin,” Brooks says. “We were very lucky that we all live within 15 minutes of each other.” Larry Sparks, Harley Allen, John Hickman and the Hotmud Family also hailing from Southern Ohio, each enjoyed successful bluegrass careers alongside the Rarely Herd. The Rarely Herd has won numerous awards for bluegrass, including a 10-year run of “Most Entertaining Band of the Year” from the Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music of America. They also won the “Bluegrass America” competition in 1991. Still, Brooks says the Bob Evans Farm Festival in Rio Grande, Ohio is one of his favorite spots to perform. “We’ve always loved Bob Evans since forever,” Brooks says fondly. “It’s a really cool thing.”

Ohio Bluegrass Festivals

Each year, Bob Evans farm hosts

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their weekend-long annual Farm Festival. Its 2023 event marked the 52nd anniversary. Among the rides, food and local goods the lilting sounds of country and bluegrass performers filled the air. The now-grandparents who make up the Rarely Herd have mostly hung up their microphones in favor of casual playing for family or friends. However, the Rarely Herd still unites about twice a year to play. Whenever they can, they perform at the Farm Festival. Brooks says while the festival was huge in the ‘90s, often boasting 80,000 attendees over its three-day span, the best part was the hospitality, which keeps the band returning even into retirement. He says they would always receive a letter a few weeks after their performance from their hosts. Regretfully, they could not make the 2023 Farm Festival. Farm Festival is just one of several annual Southern Ohio bluegrass festivals. Sammy Karr, organizer of two premiere bluegrass festivals in the U.S., connected with bluegrass at age 10 at his first bluegrass festival in 1974. “When you’re 10 years old, you just

want to go somewhere with your parents and play with your friends,” Karr says. “When we were old enough to start going with him to the bluegrass festivals. We started liking it a lot, we started getting to meet some of the bands. We thought that was really cool.” Of the two festivals Karr organizes, SamJam, which won the International Bluegrass Music Association for best festival, takes place in Piketon. While Karr has been a fan of bluegrass for nearly 50 years, his festival at the Piketon Fairgrounds works hard to keep bluegrass young. “I think the best thing we’ve done with SamJam is get younger people to come to our festival,” Karr says proudly. “We do a lot of things that cater to the younger audience, college age kids, so we get a different kind of bluegrass. A little more progressive.” SamJam is a sensory adventure. Daytime brings sunshine on green grass, spotted with American flags, vibrant outfits full of fringe and sounds of fiddle and banjo echoing through the fairgrounds. Hats are favored attire and lawn chairs of

“We started in a garage and now ... we won the International Bluegrass Music Association Award for best festival.”

- Sammy Karr

every shape, size and color dot the space, often left empty to opt for stomping of boots along to the beat. Lollipop-toting toddlers waddle around the grass among seated life-long enthusiasts with long, white beards; at SamJam, all ages can enjoy bluegrass. As night falls the stage lights brighten, illuminating performers and their various stringed instruments against the dark night sky. By the end of the evening, smoke machines join the music in the air surrounding the dancing, rosy-cheeked crowd. It is still hard for Karr to comprehend, however. The festival— in true bluegrass fashion— began humbly in middle America. Karr had a little barn in Worthington, Indiana and decided to host a small music festival for his nephew’s 21st birthday. The first year boasted about 30 people and a performance by Karr and a buddy of his. The next year, however, Karr decided to continue the performance. “By the time the eighth one was done, I had to move it out to a campground because it was getting so big,” Karr says. Before long, SamJam attracted the attention of Rick Greene, who approached Karr with the idea of the Piketon Fairgrounds. Pike County nestles a bluegrass hub in between U.S. 23 and Ohio 32, both four-lane highways. Now, SamJam has surpassed its eighth official year and Karr says it draws 3,000 people and about $4 million dollars to the county annually. “It started in a garage, and now … we won the International Bluegrass Music Association Award for best festival,” Karr says. “[We’ve] beaten people from Paris and everywhere else. It’s unbelievable how this has happened.”

Ohio's Legacy Lives On The twang of the banjo and flip of a fiddle still harmonize today, as bluegrass continues to be a prominent Appalachian genre. Bluegrass intertwines with legend, with Appalachia and with Southeast Ohio. Just as history, the Rarely Herd and SamJam do, bluegrass songs invite the world to experience the “banks of the Ohio.”

Banks of the Ohio “I asked my love to take a walk Just a walk a little way And as we walk, oh, may we talk All about our wedding day Only say that you’ll be mine And in our home we’ll happy be Down beside where the waters flow, On the banks of the Ohio. I held a knife against her breast As into my arms she pressed She said Willie, don’t you murder me I’m unprepared for eternity I took her by her lily white hand And dragged her down that bank of sand There I throwed her in to drown I watched her as she floated down Was walking home ‘tween twelve and one Thinkin’ of what I had done I killed a girl, my love you see Because she would not marry me The very next morn about half past four The Sheriff came knocked at my door He said now young man come now and go Down to the Banks of the Ohio.”

After 46 years – little evidence, no leads The cold case of Joanna Jenkins STORY BY MADELINE HARDEN // PHOTOS PROVIDED

oanna Jenkins was last seen at the Bridge Inn in Oak Hill on Nov. 1, 1977, her missing person poster reports. Jenkins has been missing for 46 years. The only official information available on her case is her description: 23-years-old, five feet tall, blonde, blue-eyed, white, female. Jenkins’ older sister, Teresa Maynard, age 70, still resides in Jackson County. While in the hospital recovering from a recent leg amputation, she spent hours discussing her sister’s disappearance at length with Southeast Ohio magazine. Maynard described her sister as having been, “different.” Joanna struggled with mental health issues, and she was once admitted to the hospital by her mother. She once left the state with a boyfriend, only to be picked up by her sister and father a few months later. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Joanna to not come home. “He was a creep,” Maynard says, of Joanna’s boyfriend at the time of her disappearance. Maynard recalled Joanna coming home between her disappearance and her suspected death. Maynard said it looked like Joanna had run through the woods or a bush—she was covered in scratches and had two black eyes. “I begged her not to go back,” Maynard said. Today, Joanna Jenkins is one of 40 long-term missing persons in Southeast Ohio. After Joanna’s disappearance, the Jenkins family dedicated their time to finding her, answering tips from neighbors, and chasing down leads. Maynard said police were dismissive of their concern.

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ABOVE: Joanna’s 1997 missing persons poster provided on the Ohio Attorney General’s website.

“They called her a runaway, wouldn’t even look for her,” she said. Joanna’s father would often turn the car around if he spotted a blonde girl while driving, just in case it was his daughter. Her mother called the police station nearly daily, but received little to no response. Searching for answers and desperate to find Joanna, Maynard’s mother and her other sister, Diane, went to the home of Joanna’s boyfriend’s parents. The boyfriend’s parents chased them off the property with shotguns. According to an article published in the Chillicothe-Gazette in November 2005, after Joanna had been missing for 23 years, Bill Reese, Jenkins’ former brother-in-law and a retired Los Angeles County sheriff’s sergeant, approached the Jackson County Sheriff with new information— he had found a witness. At the time, the Jackson County Sheriff Department claimed it was too ill-equipped to further investigate the case. Lt. Tony Robinson cited massive budget cuts and the weakness of the case to secure a search warrant for Jenkins’ remains or pass it along to the state. The article also included quotes from an interview with Virginia Jenkins, Joanna Jenkins’ mother: “It’s not fair for him to be footloose and fancy free after what he did to my daughter.” She wanted justice, even if it came 30 years late. From her hospital bed, Maynard filled in new information about Reese’s lead. He had found a witness named Isaac Davis who asserted to have given Jenkins a ride one night. Davis said Jenkins

“They called her a runaway, wouldn’t even look for her.”

- Teresa Maynard

told him of a physical altercation between her and a date who had threatened to kill her. Later, Davis talked to the “date,” who told him he had killed Jenkins and thrown her into a well. Davis said Joanna returned to the Oak Hill trailer she and her boyfriend shared, only to find him with another woman. Joanna got upset and the boyfriend delivered a blow to her head. “Isaac said he never heard a scream like that before,” Maynard said. Joanna and the boyfriend left the trailer, but Joanna never came back. The boyfriend told the other woman that if she did what Joanna had done, she would end up just like her, at the bottom of a well. “I hope she was dead when she hit the bottom of the well,” Maynard said. Maynard said the boyfriend’s ex-wife told Reese she had found Joanna’s social security card in his back pocket. Despite this new evidence, police still did not look further into Joanna’s case., “They blew her off like she wasn’t even a person,” Maynard said Although the Jackson County Sheriff Department cited budget cuts, Maynard suspects they, “didn’t like him [Reese]. I think it was because he came from California.” Reese and Davis have both since passed away. Maynard says Joanna’s then-boyfriend still lives in Oak Hill but advises against pursuing him. “I’d like to see [him] in prison for the rest of his life,” Maynard says. “It bothered mom because he got to live free and Joanna was dead.” In 2014, Jenkin’s case entered a national missing persons database called NamUs. The case has remained untouched ever since. Both people listed as contributors to Jenkins’ case on her NamUs page said they were unable to comment or unfamiliar with the case. Since her case was never investigated, there is no official case file available. When asked, current Jackson County Sheriff Tedd Frazier said he was unfamiliar with the Jenkins case. Frazier boasted of having zero impediments to solving missing persons cases in Jackson County. Jackson County received $191,862.72 from the governor’s office last year for retention bonuses and technology for intelligence gathering. When asked if his office has used NamUs in the modern search of missing persons, Frazier said he had never heard of the database, despite the website being listed on the Ohio Attorney General missing person resource page. In very few words, Sheriff Frazier said funding problems had not halted or impeded any investigation during his time serving as sheriff. The major obstacle for investigating a 45-year-old case is time; almost every person involved in the investigation or related to the 1977 case has since passed. Both of Jenkins’ parents passed while still holding out hope of finding their daughter. “Do I have some hope? No,” Maynard says.

RIGHT: A clipping of the 2005 Chillicothe-Gazette article.

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Can the Merge Mend? Bridging socioeconomic divides in the classroom STORY BY ETHAN BLOOMFIELD // PHOTOS BY PJ MAROLT

lementary school students in the Jackson City School District wake up on a Monday morning and make their way by bus, by car or on foot to school by 8:55 a.m. Whether Northview, Westview or Southview, each student reports to an elementary school built with their generation’s needs in mind. But this system wasn’t always the way for the district.

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In Southeastern Ohio, the divide between rural and urban living can be a wide gulf. Access to food, internet and education for those in the countryside has long been fundamentally lacking compared to those in cities and towns. Funds for school districts are determined by a mix local property taxes and state and federal funding, according to the Ohio Department of Education. Disadvantaged school districts in Ohio’s poorest counties tend not to have property values as high as those in wealthy districts, creating a feedback loop of underfunding for those who need money the most. According to a 2022 census report, the median household income in the state of Ohio is currently $65,720. Jackson county falls almost $15,000 short at $50,983. Surprisingly, average income is far worse in the city of Jackson, at a mere $39,928. The divide between rural and urban communities is not always down to just raw income, but access to resources and opportunities as well. One solution to bridging the socioeconomic divides between students is school consolidation. In the past, school districts in Ohio tended to consolidate with each other. Today, it is more common for schools to consolidate within their own districts. Ohio had 2,674 school districts in 1914, according to a 2001 report in American Secondary Education. By 1989, that number had been consolidated to 612 districts. Today, Ohio has 611 districts supporting nearly 1.5 million students, according to the Ohio Department of Education.

Success in Jackson County

Debby Crabtree, a retiree of the Jackson City School District and director of special projects, witnessed how internal consolidation affected students and staff 20 years ago. “What we actually had was a building project as a part of the Ohio School Facilities Program. At the time, we had six elementaries, and we combined them so now we have three,” Crabtree said. Athens County had a controversial elementary school consolidation in 2021. A recent New York Magazine feature about the consolidation implied that the social integration had been largely successful, despite pushback from the community. With the benefit of hindsight, Crabtree outlined the successes, and challenges, of consolidation in her own district. “The old [township] schools had lots of issues: water in the basement, coal heat, no air conditioning, you know, those are things people were very happy to leave behind,” Crabtree said. “Actually bringing the children together is good too … but sometimes there is a little adjustment needed there.” Fundamentally reshuffling a school district was not easy. The change required new educational and custodial staff, bus routes and furnishings and supplies. Students and parents also experienced a degree of culture shock from the changes. “Where we, at one time, had buildings with 150 students, we now have a building with 400 or 450 students,” Crabtree said. “Very often, buildings develop a personality. . . and it takes time to blend them into a new community.” Crabtree said the merging of three different communities posed challenges in both attitudes and safety. Customs, procedures and group dynamics all changed from the old style of the township schools into the new model. Crabtree cited security as a top problem. She said when the schools were built in 2003, in the wake of the Columbine shooting, safety had to be taken more seriously than ever. “Our country schools, the schools I was in, the doors didn’t even lock, and to then begin to lock down buildings, have security procedures, ask parents to sign in and sign out, those were new to many of the parents,” Crabtree said. Crabtree’s convictions have not changed over the past two

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decades. “[The schools] are doing great. They’ve had plenty of time [to integrate], and we’ve changed a generation,” says Crabtree. “For the students and the staff and their families, primarily, this is all they’ve ever known.”

Fairfield County: A Counterpoint

In Fairfield County, Walnut Township Schools failed to pass three levies in 2014 and 2015, resulting in understaffing and underfunding for the 2016 spring semester. Amid the shortfall of resources, public buzz about consolidating with neighboring district, Berne Union, abounded, according to an article from the Lancaster Eagle Gazette. Walnut Township Schools denied rumors of consolidation, citing incongruence financially and with the infrastructure of the two districts. Walnut Township Schools declined to comment on the rumors for this article. A school’s general fund is its “chief operating fund,”which covers most day-to-day expenses of a district, and holds the largest portion of the district’s usable money. According to Walnut Township’s financial statements from December 2016 and 2019, the school’s general fund increased from just over $1,000,000 to almost $4,300,000. Facing financial hardship and public outcry for change, the school quadrupled its main budget in those three years. By the end of 2022, its general fund stood at $5,438,052.

“For the students and the staff

and their families, primarily, this is all they’ve ever known.”

-Debby Crabtree

Fairfield county, the home of Walnut Township Schools, has a poverty rate of 8.9 percent, which is nearly four percentage points lower than the national average poverty rate of 12.8 percent. It also has a median household income of $82,486, which is just over 25% more than the state average. The school district receives over 60 percent of its funding from local income and real estate taxes, according to the budgetary section of the school website. Conversely, Athens County, home of recently consolidated elementary schools, has a poverty rate of over 20 percent, or more than one in five.

Consolidation or Not?

For the elementary school students in Jackson County, consolidation answered the call for expanded education opportunities and improved facilities for those in township schools. For Walnut Township, consolidation could have been a way through financial hardship, but wasn’t necessary for the district to move forward. As economic trends shift, students’ needs change, and people migrate throughout the region, consolidation efforts may continue. It is one of the many tools that school administrators can use to uplift students and their communities, but runs the risk of burdening districts with structural and financial hardship if the schools are unable to sustain themselves. For Debby Crabtree, the conversation around consolidation might get murky, but the effects are crystal clear. “When combining schools is discussed, I think it’s always promoted economically, like you’re saving money,” Crabtree said. “You also get additional costs, like transportation for example . . . but the benefits, definitely, to me, are real.”

TOP LEFT: Brick Building outside Jackson High School houses small administrative team for the district. BOTTOM LEFT: Greenery around Jackson High School sprawls out into thick woods. TOP RIGHT: One of the shelves in the main lobby adorned with decorations for teachers. BOTTOM RIGHT: Front windows of Jackson High School covered by a one-way film, display the city crest and protect children from onlookers.

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The “Arrow Sniper” of Jackson County With over 2.4 million TikTok followers, Josh O’Dell hit the viral bullseye with his trick shot videos STORY BY BENNETT SNYDER // PHOTOS BY OWEN MCCDERMOTT

roken arrows and targets scattered across the range show evidence of an arrow sniper at work. Elsa, a German Shepherd, guards Josh O’Dell’s workspace. While at first glance she appears as a fierce presence, she is a true sweetheart; petting her is a warm welcome to one of the most followed content creators in Ohio. A dream, a niche, a bow and arrow, and a smartphone have grown into a brand many know as the “Arrow Sniper,” a brand O’Dell is preparing to grow. In less than four years, Josh O’Dell evolved from making a fishing YouTube channel, to millions of followers flocking to watch his bow and arrow trick shot videos on TikTok. He has a silver YouTube creator plaque, along with features on ESPN and House of Highlights, a social media network with almost 50 million followers on Instagram.

RIGHT: Josh O’Dell, the “Arrow Sniper,” in his backyard wielding his famous bow.

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ABOVE: Josh O’Dell taking aim for his next trick shot. The custom "AS' signifies the custom bow made for the "Arrow Sniper."

Known on TikTok and Instagram as the “Arr0w_Sniper,” O’Dell is a oneman show who films in his backyard in Jackson County. The film crew consists of him, Elsa, his bow and his smartphone. The black mat featured in his videos, which bears the impact of his shots, was not originally intended for archery, but for horses to walk on. While no horses reside on his property, fake animals riddled with arrow marks inhabit his backyard. O’Dell’s setup isn’t glamorous, but it works for him. Despite his social media fame, he doesn’t plan to move to a big city, join a niche content creation community or build a state-of-the-art shooting range. “I like the country, the small town, the simple life,” O’Dell says. “I have been in Jackson since I was six years old.” O’Dell’s uncle, Tony, first introduced him to bows when he was young. Every year for Thanksgiving, the pair would head out and shoot a turkey for supper. When O’Dell turned 12 years old, Uncle

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Tony gave him his first bow. In the film “Deliverance,” Burt Reynolds’ character, Lewis Medlock, uses a recurve bow. O’Dell’s passion for hunting, coupled with his idolization of Lewis Medlock, ignited an obsession with bows. Uncle Tony knew there was only one person to pass his Bear Grizzly recurve bow down to: his nephew. O’Dell used his uncle’s bow for the next 10 years, landing every shot imaginable before it broke. Hunting bows can feature all sorts of aims and scopes, but O’Dell prefers a traditional wooden recurve bow. The black and brown bow comes fully loaded with a custom leather pouch for extra arrows reading “AS”, signifying that this is indeed a bow meant for the Arrow Sniper. “There are several ways to shoot a traditional bow, but the way I shoot is instinctive,” O’Dell says. “With instinctive, the bow and arrow and your peripheral vision are all a blur. You’re just focused

on a spot you want to hit, kind of like hand-eye coordination when you shoot a basketball.” O’Dell’s method makes his trick shot videos even more impressive. While his initial social media plan was dedicated to fishing, he decided to film a video shooting an arrow through a wedding ring. ESPN reshared the video and O’Dell knew he had something special. “When I think of ESPN, I think of watching Michael Jordan as a kid, so that’s when it hit me hard,” O’Dell says. That first viral video garnered 6.9 million likes and 41.9 million views on his TikTok account. O’Dell had found his niche in trick shot videos. From there, he kept pushing himself to try new shots. Can a guy really flip a wedding ring in the air and then shoot an arrow through it? What about through the center of a CD without shattering it? A Starbucks straw?

TOP LEFT: O’Dell’s beloved German Shepard, Elsa.

O’Dell made every shot. “I always feel pressure,” O’Dell says. “I know people expect something harder the next time. If I do a trick shot that is equal to the last, then I’m not progressing.” One of the major issues for most content creators is keeping followers entertained by raising the stakes with every video. If they can’t, they face the worst fate of an internet celebrity — lost views. O’Dell has progressed from flipping a wedding ring off his bow, to flipping the ring like a coin, doing a 360-degree spin, and then shooting an arrow through it. He shot an aspirin mid-air but was unsatisfied, so he shot half an aspirin. “The one that surprised me was the half an aspirin. An aspirin had been asked, but not half of one,” O’Dell says. “I got that one on the first try. I’ve had a couple on the first try.”

TOP RIGHT: The recurve bow used in O’Dell’s trick shot videos.

While his trick shots already seem impossible, that he completes some of his videos in one attempt is jaw dropping. On shots that take multiple attempts, if he cannot complete a video in fifteen minutes, he returns to it day after day until he makes it. His viewers are often left in awe. “This is the best thing on TikTok right now,” commented Gator (@jmg8tor). Commenter Cory Jean (@coryjean18) wrote, “Dude... how... keep it up man. You are a legend.” Fans have begun asking for seemingly impossible shots. “At this point I want to see a grain of sand,” commented Chris (@ chriskaufman803). Along with 2.6 million followers and brand name sponsors such as MTN OPS and Gold Tip, O’Dell has expanded his account with a shop selling custom knives, daggers and bows. The custom items can be purchased

on his website, which can be found through links on any of his social media pages. This website is also a great place to read more about O’Dell’ story and what makes him so special. Just as I turned off the cameras and prepared to leave his residence, our microphone was able to capture O’Dell’s final sentiment: “I’m just glad you didn’t ask me how I do it, because I really have no idea.”

Josh O'Dell TikTok: Arr0w_Sniper Instagram: Arr0w_Sniper

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What’s Your Story?

Labor of Love As maternal mortality rates rise across the U.S., doula Brooke Miller works to make birth comforting and empowering. ABOVE: Brooke Miller, mother, elementary school teacher and part-time doula. STORY BY SAVANNAH DAWSON // PHOTO BY MILTON LINDSAY

rooke Miller is busy. In addition to her work as a mother of three and an intervention specialist at Zane Trace Elementary School, Miller has a third job. In her work as a doula, Miller reassures expecting mothers and helps them navigate childbirth. In conversation with Southeast Ohio magazine, Miller outlines why her profession matters and what doulas mean for mothers.

Can you explain your job?

“I support moms prenatally throughout their entire pregnancy. I help them to make informed decisions when it comes to prenatal care and what they want for their birth.” “When we [first] meet, we discuss what their plan is for birth, and then I help them decide what their priority is. Some moms don’t think about what options are, in terms of pregnancy, labor, prenatal care and postnatal care.” “I also attend my clients’ births and provide comfort measures. A lot of my clients don’t want medication or interventions, so I am there to help inform them.” “I had my first son at 27 and I had a hospital birth induction. But I have become more educated [since then]. When I had my second son, [I thought,] my body can do this.”

How did you become a doula?

“When I had my own child, I thought, this is what a woman’s body is made for. If my grandma could have nine children naturally, I can do it, too. ” “So, with my second baby I decided that I was not getting an epidural or getting induced. Everything would happen on its own, so I stayed home as long as I could. When I got to the hospital, I instinctively had my baby. After the fact, I realized I didn’t even need to be at the hospital. That was when I realized I wanted to become a doula; I needed to help other mothers.”

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Tell me about the birthing community.

“The birthing community, and more specifically the home-birthing community, is very close knit. Everyone is willing to help one another– with this type of job, you may not be available on a certain date, or a client might connect with someone else better so I recommend them to one of my friends.” “I have busy seasons, and non-busy seasons. Since I am a teacher, I like to be busier in the summer, so when I have to pass on clients, it’s nice to have other doulas to rely on and trust.”

What does the training process entail?

“I’ve attended a lot of births as a doula, as a sister, and as a friend. But, the actual [classroom] training only took about three days. I had to do additional training to get a lactation certification, in addition to my own experiences as a mother.” “I also do placenta encapsulation as well, whether it is for clients or non-clients. This process is taking the mother’s placenta, steaming it with herbs and such and getting it into a fine powder where it can be put into capsules. I do this process from my home.”

What is the most important part of being a doula in Southeast Ohio? “I think it’s important for doulas no matter where we are. It’s important for some people who have no idea what it all is. I would love to eventually one day start a doula program at Adena Regional Medical Center [in Chillicothe, Ohio], just because some people can’t afford them, and because there are so many mothers that don’t have support.” “If someone comes to me and says they can’t afford my services or whatnot, let’s trade something. [Whatever their career is], we can trade for that– physical training sessions, massage therapy, babysitting or hairdressing. Whatever they can offer, we can trade.”

When it comes to your career,

Scan the QR code or visit the website: www.holzer.org/careers

E.W. Scripps School of Journalism 1 Ohio University Drive Athens, OH 45701-2979

Jack and Davis Reid Music ham it up on stage `at The Bob Evans Music Festival. PAGE 32.

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