Warren County Local
History by Dallas Bogan |
Contributor: |
Dallas Bogan on 22 July 2004 |
Source: |
Dallas Bogan, Warren County, Ohio and Beyond (Bowie Maryland:Heritage Press, 1979) page 26 |
Return to Index to see a list of other articles by Dallas Bogan |
Certain events happen which sometimes seem to be supernatural at times. Word
is passed along concerning this event and eventually the story is stretched
out of proportion. Such is the case of the old "Welch mill" which
was located for years at the foot of the hill at Harveysburg. Our subject this
week will focus on the "Spirit Miller of the Old Welch Mill."
A short history of the land layout and mill should at this time be appropriate.
Before the lake project, an exquisite little valley lay directly to the west
beneath the Harveysburg hill. Geologists seem to think that before the last
ice age, this area was once the bed of a lake, but the changes that took place
at the close of the ice period closed up the original outlet. This caused the
accumulated waters to open up a new channel, through which Caesar's Creek now
flows.
Amos and Samuel
G. Welch, and Thomas
M. Wales built the old Welch gristmill in 1839. It was the last
one in operation in Massie Township. It was forty feet square and three stories
high, and worked three runs of stones. Isaiah Fallis, John
and Thomas Fallis, George Wikle, William
Harlan, William Starry, George Ross,
Alfred Edwards and T.E. Lawrence last owned
it respectively.
The old mill at one time was the highlight of a large and successful trade.
It was the centerpiece of the market and the gathering spot for nearby and distant
citizens. Up above the mill, near the western side, there were overflowing springs,
which had caused large marshes to exist. The owners drained the bog and caused
a discharge of waters into Caesar's Creek near the southern rim. This small
stream was known as Prairie Branch, and early pioneers knew the entire valley
as Little Prairie.
Our story now continues with a taste of ghostly fright. It seems that an old
miller by the name of Hans Van Ripper was well remembered in
the middle 1800's by many Harveysburg citizens.
Hans was normally a gentleman and respected by all who knew him, except when
he allowed the Devil's own concoction, "good old-fashioned whiskey,"
to draw out an inner fire in him. This episode allowed the demon to take the
place of the man, and become a fiendish fury. The "legend" states
that on one hot, steamy summer night a violent thunderstorm was raging with
all the ferocity the heavens could yield. The might of the Devil seemed to lash
out and at times flick its fire toward the earth in a vengeful manner. Hans,
in a drunken frenzy, appeared to display a disposition that complimented the
unmerciful display of the heavens. He cursed the storm, the lightning, the wind,
and, as the events grew even more turbulent, his madness increased in intensity.
His employer, who was horrified not only at the storm but at his wild companion,
started to leave the premises when Hans burst into a fresh barrage of profanities,
and called on the Devil himself to come and help run the mill. A graphic sheet
of flame, a crash of thunder, a wild piercing scream, and a momentary vision
was caught of a dark form sailing through the air, and the curses of Hans were
heard dying away into the retreating storm.
The eventful night of Hans and his disappearance caused much commotion amongst
the multitude. Ill-fortune now hung over the mill as if being guided by some
unknown force. Twice it was ravaged by fire and twice it was rebuilt. The dams
had been swept away and the race was dry.
The vast wheel, which turned the machinery was clogged with mud and hung idly
rotting on its shaft. The windows were gone; the doors hung ruined on their
hinges; and the moss grew on the roof in an aimless manner. The old mill beckoned
for the days of the past. But the ever-reaching hand of Hans Van Ripper
dominated the events to his choosing. It was said that not even the birds or
rodents would choose the mill as their resting place. The eerie walks of the
ghostly cast their shadowy form and strange shapes through the open windows,
while the pale moonlight projected its remnant through the cracks of the rickety
old building. It was then the hound would stop in full chase, throw up his head,
and break away into the most gruesome howls. The horse of the overdue rider
stops, with every limb trembling, with inflated nostrils, its eyes flashing
and ears quivering, while neither blows nor persuasion will spur him to proceed.
On the fiercest nights, when the storm is in all its fury, it was said that
lights shone from every window of the old mill. Ghostly teamsters and their
teams would again be seen driving into the mill-yard. Horses were again heard
neighing in the mill-shed. Sounds of water splashing over the great water wheel
were again distinctive. The distant sound of the groaning mill and its machinery
once again rang out a in a spooky fashion. Sounds of grain falling from the
elevator buckets, the dull rumble of the millstones as they turn on their spindles,
the hopper boy once again seen making his rounds, all of which seemed to be
fashioned by the unknown.
On nights of immense storms and the awesome powers of the heavens are inflicted
on the Earth, the old storytellers shake their heads, and tell the frightened
child that Hans Van Ripper and the Devil are attending the
mill.
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This page created 22 July 2004 and last updated
28 September, 2008
© 2004 Arne H Trelvik
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